Fortress Around The Heart
by Darma Druid
Summary: Yet another (mighty) stretch from Master Tolkien's work - a challenge for both reader and writer. Elves: immortal, powerful, rich, bitter, secluded, secret. And living amongst us today.
1. Default Chapter

Inner peace is found when one accepts that one is beyond cure. In that sense, I have found it. For, as pathetic as it may seem to many, here I am, typing away some fantasy again. Not to mention, at Tolkien's expense. And at Legolas'. And all the other characters that do not belong to me and that I am only using to relief my distorted vision of things. 

Every story is a challenge. And in my case, the opportunity to do something different. I do not want to repeat myself – neither in my characterization, nor in my plot or genre. Yes, I use the same characters, but they offer different aspects of their nature every time, depending on their surroundings, their upbringing and downright to a change of winds in my mind. So Irulan, who can be bold and uncaring in one story, can be timid and anxious in another, and snappy and self-confident in yet another. Legolas is gentle and graceful in one, determined and dominant in the next and cold and seductive in the following. And accordingly, all characters can change. 

The reason for this long introduction is simple – I decided to write a story that is yet far different from the ones I have tried before. A story where some of the elves did not depart to Valinor and remain living amongst us, unknown to the majority of humankind, as immortal beings. A story that explores what they might have changed into after such a long time amongst mortals and in our current world. A story that stretches the limits of characterization and presents a far different Legolas and his –accordingly- different interaction with the mortal Irulan. 

I am aware that it is a stretch. But so was Irulan. And so was the Glass Sandal. Hell, in the Sandal I distorted everything to the point when elves were not even immortal and Legolas was Prince of a not existing Kingdom and Boromir still lived – and yet, I had fun writing it and my adorable reviewers had fun reading it. 

And that, is the whole point of fanfiction. It is something that starts when somebody some day sits in front of the computer and thinks "What if?......" 

Anyone who can not endure new and unusual things, should not read from this point on and spare her or himself the experience. Anyone who has certain standards in his or her mind regarding what elves, Legolas, the world, Middle Earth history is or should be like, should not bother to continue from this point on. 

Because this story is only for those who are willing to cross the limits and fly with the imagination to wherever it may take them. For after all, one day a guy in England sat down, took a pen and thought "What if?....." and created a world full with dragons, goblins, elves, dwarves, hobbits, Balrogs and orcs. And though many might have thought him stupid or mad, there are also those who find love, longing, sacrifice, courage and freedom in those stories. 

So….choose which one you are and enter at will. 

Here we go…. Inspired by FORTRESS AROUND YOUR HEART, by Sting. 

A Tale of passion. Of longing for long lost times. Of bitterness and woven shells. And most definitely, of seduction. 

****

"This is where we have fought," he said slowly, his eyes gliding over the landscape. "This is where we have died."

A breeze came up and ruffled his hair. His horse neighed softly and shifted. 

The blonde man beside him gasped softly. His tone spoke of not of doubt, but of terror: "Are you certain, Legolas?"

Legolas did not answer. He did not need to. Of course he was certain and Haldir knew that as well as he knew it himself. But he understood the shock and pain of his friend – the pain that comes with change. The pain of going back to your childhood home and seeing it ripped off, turned upside down and replaced with something downright ugly. Legolas had long ago discovered that a certain sense of betrayal always accompanied the shock and dislike. Something so faint, it had taken him centuries to even sense its presence. 

Yes, betrayal. The feeling of, while you were having a splendid, joyful and downright shallow moment somewhere else, the place that you once –no matter how long time ago- had fought and looked Death in the eye for, was ripped off and demolished. While you were toasting a drink, or laughing at some stupid joke, or thinking about worthless investments and quadrupling your fortune, the very earth where your fellow brothers had bled into was turned inside out and prepared for a downright sinful and ugly new construction. You had betrayed your past. Everything you had stood up for and fought for and risked for meant......nothing to you any longer. 

And it was always a slap in the face. Always. 

Legolas swallowed softly and turned away from the scene. A little further and he would hear the clatter of armory. A little longer and he would recall the blood pumping in his temples. A little more and he would feel the comfortable weight of his bow in his hands. He closed his eyes and hurled it all away. Into the deep chasm that was the past and dead and gone now for all times. 

When he looked up again it was only a landscape like any other – rolling fields of green, sporadic groups of trees –if one could call them so, these meager and famished grand-children of the once majestic creatures that had stood on the same grounds- and the distant towers of factories in the horizon, bleeding a carbon coal black fume into the sky. 

No armies clashing into each other like the waves of the ocean. No thunder, lightning, or rain. No evil. No good. 

"Do you miss it?" Haldir said suddenly, his eyes wandering back and forth, seeing far different thing than what was present there at that moment. 

"No," was the dull and blank answer. Haldir turned to him then, his head slightly cocked to the side, his hair gently rolling on the air as he had left it long and free this day. He gave Legolas a penetrating gaze, his blue eyes moving over his figure without haste. 

Legolas looked back in utter stillness, his own eyes never leaving the other. Their gazes locked and they just kept staring, as was their common unconscious trait from long lost times. Many moments passed. But neither was aware of that. What were moments to timeless creatures?

"I have lost that skill a long time ago," he said then and it was dry to the ear. 

Haldir looked away, sighing inaudibly. "I miss the Old Days," he whispered and if not for his elven hearing, Legolas would not have picked it up. "I miss......being a PART of something. Having a reason to exist," he added with a hiss, his grip on his reins increasing and blanching his knuckles, though nothing else about his posture changed. 

It was Legolas' turn to eye his friend with a lazy and blank expression, from top to bottom and back. Another string of minutes passed as the sky grew darker and the light grew dimmer. Neither noticed. 

"Your reason is your own now," came the late reply. "Some would call that freedom, Haldir." And why was his tone so bitter? So mocking?

"I do not want to be free, then!" Haldir turned to look at him and the embers of fury were in his eyes. Though to any other, it might have been the orange light of the setting sun reflected in those orbs. 

"No," said Legolas slowly, locking eyes with him again, "but that choice is beyond you now."

Haldir swallowed and simply stared back as Legolas watched his features undergoing sentiments of anger, shame, more anger, defeat, reasoning, regret and finally acceptance. 

"And yet I miss it," he chocked out finally, harshly turning away again, his sentimental state in the face of such cold observation irritating him. 

"Worry not," said Legolas from behind him in a frosty tone, "some day you will no more."

Then he heard the other horse turning around and leaving, the sound of its gallop a dim echo of the thunder of cavalry from a time that was ill beyond cure, lost beyond hope and dead beyond resurrection.

*** 


	2. The Giant and the Vagabond

_".....Many human legends, myths and tales speak of blood and the importance of it. Take the legends that concern vampires, for instance. Though imaginary, it relates to some important facts, amongst which, of course, the main issue is the fact that blood means life and that it holds many secret and mystical powers that grant both vitality – and immortality. For it is said that when a vampire shares his or her blood with a mortal, the mortal, too, becomes a vampire. _

_"If we take this "metamorphosis into a vampire" as a translation for "becoming an immortal" (which, naturally is the case), we find yet another solid proof why elves were probably the inspiration for such a legend in the first place. Because many millennia ago, the Eldar discovered that it was the peculiar chemical nature of their blood that granted them what humans call immortality – which, by the way, is more like an ultra-slow aging, almost undetectable to the human eye and the constant revival and rejuvenation of the physical body (whether they knew of this in the former years, remains a matter of discussion). It seems that, while genes do not grant such a distinctive gift, the actual sharing and mixing of blood, and its routine repetition does change a normal human body, slowing down the aging process and speeding up the healing and mending that the body exerts under normal circumstances and tends to lose with age (this is why humans age, in the first place). _

_"However, it must be said that such a sharing is not without consequences for a mortal and therefore, is heavily discouraged by the Eldar, who believe that nature reigns over all and that immortal and mortal should remain in their own territories, not crossing the line. Nevertheless, this line was indeed crossed on rare occasions – unfortunately with dire results for the mortal. A mind, so used to the concept of time, had refused to change, and deep emotional and mental anxiety had followed. On many occasions the loss of mental health and then a fading into death had been the end result. _

_"Wary of the idea in the first place and having observed these grave results, the elves decided that only a council should hold the right to grant permission for this sort of exchange. The Council (also known as the Circle) still has full possession of this right and has used it only rarely – remaining mostly in ill favor of it."_

The Nature and History of the Eldar

"Chapter XIII – Blood and Immortality"

(Also see "Chapter XIX – Life Never-ending", The Nature and History of the Eldar; "Chapter III", The Book of Life and Death; "Chapter VI – Immortality", Remnants of Valinor".)

****

'What is it that you want, Legolas?' echoed the taunting voice in his head and he turned in his bed, hissing with discomfort. 

'What is your sole desire?' it said a while later, and if a voice could sound amused, this one did. 

Legolas swallowed and closed his eyes. 'I will not answer,' he thought, his determination fueled by both anger and that strange, damned fear. 'I will not answer. It is only a ghost of the past. Nothing more.'

Instead, he turned his focus on other things. On the soft, cool touch of silk on his skin. On the earthy and comfortable scent of his room. On the gentle dripping of raindrops outside. The relaxing warmth of his surroundings. It was a perfect state and the perfect night to sleep. Then why, cursed be it all, would sleep evade him now?!

'We all want what we can not have,' it said suddenly and Legolas bolted to sit upright, against all odds. "Mithrandir!" he whispered into the silence of the room, as the melody of the rain continued in the background and as soon as the word rolled off his tongue, a blinding fury ignited in him for showing such weakness. He jumped down the bed, the wish to tear the sheet into pieces and kick the bed into fragments pulsing in him like some mad desire. Instead he threw the bundle of sheet away and it caught something during its flight, causing a clatter in the room. The elf heard none of it as the flames of his temper, refused release for such a long time, licked at his very spirit, taunting him madly. He laid a palm on his face, shutting his eyes and urging his heart to cool down. 

Ghost of the past indeed! 'And as stubborn as ever!' he thought bitterly, suddenly finding himself striding out of his chamber, through the dark corridor that was no obstacle to his eyesight. His anger as well as a distant fear to leave the premises where to the past lured him like a merciless whip on his back, he walked with determined steps, not really knowing where he was heading at this uncanny hour but feeling the need to walk, anyway. 

With such a gloomy mood he found and entered a room where the fireplace was still glowing and the armchair facing it was inviting in its comfort. He sank into it with a sigh, the mad swirl of his ghosts slowly fading into the realm of dreams and letting go of their painful grip on his psyche. He sat there for a long time, cherishing their farewell, glad of their departure. 

In the eerie hours of dawn, one of his servants glided into the room, meaning to rekindle the fire and found him there, still sitting and brooding, his face having gained a blush from being exposed to the heat for so long. Indecisive of the expression he saw on the man's face he had halted briefly, then advanced and tentatively asked: "Sir? Are you well, my Lord?"

Legolas only nodded curtly, not turning around or tearing his gaze away. 

The servant, relieved of having received an answer but nevertheless a little alarmed by the curtness of it, prepared to leave, then remembered a detail meant to be asked to his employer. 

"Sir...Lady Victoria called yesterday. As she did the day before...What would you wish us to tell her?"

Legolas did not answer immediately, annoyed at being prodded by such minor and needless details and even more annoyed by the fact that this was, nevertheless, inevitable. The servant waited patiently through it. "I shall send flowers to her this day," he said then, still his gaze unmoving. "If she happens to call after that, tell her that I have nothing to speak with her."

From the corner of his eye he saw the servant produce a paper and pen and bow slightly to offer it to him. "For the card, Sir," the man said. He kept himself from sighing and giving the man finally a brief glance, took the items from him. After silent moments of scribbling, the pen and paper were returned and he was granted peace again. Peace to watch the flames of the fireplace die as the rays of the sun woke. 

The servant walked down the hall with long strides. His steps did not falter as curiosity got the better of him and with a last glance to his surroundings; he hastily opened the folded paper to read it. 

_"Dear Victoria,"_

it said and it was hard not to marvel at the impressive beauty of the handwriting. 

_"What we have shared was soothing, physical and natural. This, and no more. You are too fine a woman to demand what I am incapable of giving. And for that ever to be respected by me._

_Note: Please do not call or inquire further. My hopes and wishes are for a bright future for you."_

_Heath Greenleaf."_

The servant smirked to himself. "There goes another one," he murmured inaudibly, folding the paper again and continuing his walk. "Nothing new and worthy of gossip yet."

The elf sitting in his armchair spent no more than a few moments in the memory of Victoria who -unknown to him- had spent days of agony and grief at his refusal to reply. Not that this knowledge would stir anything in him. She was a good memory. Gentle and passionate. And gone and done with. It was not often that he sought physical pleasure or intimacy with a woman, yes. And elves took this kind of bonding rather serious. But still…it was but merely nature playing its game. It was electricity pulling and pushing. No more. One could watch a thunderstorm and marvel at its majestic tantrum. One could watch a movie and feel intrigued at how much work, effort and creativity was put into such small a thing. One could watch a plane fly and find oneself at a loss of words for the mental skill that had given birth to it. All these, one could admire and feel diminished in comparison to. But the physical act between man and woman was nothing like that. It was a relief. An act of mutual needing and wanting. Beautiful and precious. But not an act that should necessarily be taken as a promise for something further.

Humans spoke of passion. They spoke of longing. Of love. And yet knew nothing of these things. They knew only the flicker of a flame. The ignition of a spark. The sudden illumination of a lightning. And then...silence and darkness. One small pulse, then nothing. It was human nature – Legolas had learned that long ago. A simple incapability. In the Old Days they had been weak and immature. But now they were incomparable even to their state of back then. Shadows they were – forever in thirst of real blood and flesh. Doomed to be fading shadows of what they could have become for all times. 

All virtues were lost to them. All passion taken from them. All sentiments drained from them.

'Love,' thought the elf and chuckled slightly, a first in days, "Indeed! Love!" He laughed again, shaking his head at such childish notions. Rising from his seat, satisfied that the bleak darkness had lifted from his spirits for good, he walked to the window, taking in the scenery. "A giant amongst children I am," he whispered to himself, eyes taking in the newly washed view, wet with the rain of the former night, "One who cares not where he treads."

***

"Alright now...this country REALLY blows!" Irulan moaned, looking up to the drizzle that broke out...AGAIN! "How can it rain so damn much?" she said to the other woman beside her. 

"Don't tell me," her friend murmured, "I am almost expecting people to have roots instead of feet."

At that, another rumble shook the heavens and both women moaned simultaneously, then chuckled, shaking their heads. "What IS this? Some sort of curse?" 

"Perhaps it's a prophesy," said Anne slyly. "And by the looks of it," –at that, she glanced up to the swiftly forming dark sky- "not a good omen at all."

"I was not expecting it to be," the other one murmured, almost to herself. 

"Irulan, you MUST keep yourself at bay this time."

"Huh? When did I not?" was the shocked answer. Anne only gave her a dry look. Irulan sighed and looked away. "I admit that I can be…passionate at times," she chocked out then and the blonde woman only snorted at that. "But I also happen to be reasonable and calm." At the prolonged silence she received she turned to Anne, who happened to be staring at her, agape. "What?" she said defensively, "I am!"

"Irulan…Cate is your friend. She is mine, too. And so is…Jonathan. I mean Analoth. Whatever! The point is, it is normal to feel an obligation to defend them. And yet…this is the Circle we are talking about! Not a bunch of fools!"

"You might want to rethink that comment," was Irulan's dry retort, but Anne ignored it. 

"We can not convince these people by making humans look fervent, uncontrollable and impulsive creatures! THAT is exactly what they are looking for!"

Irulan bit her lip and looked away, at the passing throng of people in the streets – an ocean of umbrellas, coats, boots and hats. She sighed unconsciously and eyed Anne again. "I don't understand why the Circle has to summon for something like this! I mean…an elf and a mortal decide to be together. He accepted to share blood with her and she accepted to be immortal. To me, the matter is solved and taken care of. Who else has a say in something like this?!"

Anne rolled her eyes and just at that moment, spotted the driver who was holding out the sign that had their names on it. She grabbed Irulan's arm and waving to the driver, began to walk towards the revolving doors that led outside. "You make it sound so simple!"

"It IS simple!"

"Don't be foolish, Irulan. The immortals as well as the Circle are a very sensitive and at this point, well-balanced community. The Eldar take this whole issue –as any other issue, may I point out- very seriously. You know how responsible they feel about everything. Making a human immortal is always a big matter to them. And understandable, too. I mean…even YOU can not deny that such a power can and should only be granted to the worthy!"

"But Cate is worthy!"

"To you she is. You know her and you like her." She stepped swiftly aside to avoid colliding with an old woman, pulling Irulan with her. Then found her path again and continued walking. "But…is that enough?"

"Is what enough?" asked Irulan, annoyed by the crowd and trying not to lose her bag in this tumult. 

"To like someone. I will not deny that both the elves and in general the Circle have far better judgment in these matters than you and me do. We like Jonathan. And we like Cate. So we think it's alright for him to share his blood and rid her of her mortality. But…" With that she glanced up at the other woman whose mind was reeling with the hate she felt for crowds, "…immortality is a strange thing. Neither you, nor me have the experience to understand its impact, or its consequences, or its risks. Especially for the mind and psyche of a mortal!"

"Look," Irulan said finally, more than glad that they had made it outside and had almost arrived by the limo and its driver, "I can understand that. And yet…to hell with it all! They love each other. That is such a rare thing, it deserves all the support we can grant it. Period!"

"Well…that's why we are here, isn't it?" Anne huffed then, and without waiting for a reply, smiled and shook hands with the driver, who was eager to take them to their destination. 

The glided into the limo and with the shutting of the doors, the sound and mayhem of outdoors instantly vanished and was replaced by a steady and soft silence. It took hold of them for several minutes as the car hummed and began a soft motion in the streets of the city. The women, sitting across each other and sharing the view of England, remained silent and panting from the short but rather annoying run. 

After a long silence, Anne spoke up again: "I think your appearance will cause some…irritation in the Circle."

"I am aware of that," mumbled Irulan, not looking away from the window. 

"Will you take your rightful place in it?" 

At that, she could not help but lock eyes with Anne, who was sitting in a relaxed pose with a blank look on her face. A moment passed between them. "I have no place in that community, you know that," Irulan said finally, weighing the words cautiously before she spelled them out. 

"No, Irulan. YOU know that you do," the blonde woman said finally, an odd tired tinge to her voice. 

"I have no interest in their affairs," was the dismissive reply. 

"It is your duty to serve this world," her friend insisted and ignored the sharp glare she received for that. "It is in your nature to do so. In your genealogy. In your…" She did not finish, pursing her lips and Irulan only stared back before she finished in her stead:

"In my BLOOD, Anne?" She received no answer. "Just because a man who lived ages upon ages ago, has done something…some sacrifice," she began, her irritation obvious as her face gained a sour expression when Anne cut in:

"Not one. Many GREAT sacrifices! Many LEGENDARY heroic deeds!"

"Whatever! And just because I carry his blood –_if_ I do and if it is not washed away already somewhere along that loooooong line…"

"You know that it is not."

"…I really don't think that I should do the same. No! His choices were his. Mine will be mine. I have nothing against elves, nor the Circle. They rule the world behind closed curtains and they have been doing so for many millennia. Long before I was ever born! They can continue doing so, for all I care!"

"Then why is it," seethed Anne finally, leaning a little forward, a slight anger forming in her green eyes, "that you are here now, Irulan? Huh? If they are so wise and all-knowing and just, why are you coming in the open for the first time, to persuade them in a matter?" Irulan stiffened visibly and resisting the urge to bite her fingernails, sharply turned to observe the passing scenery once more. That, of course, only served Anne to continue. "Could it be because you don't trust their judgment, after all?" The blonde woman crossed her arms on her chest, slightly tilting her head and raising one eyebrow. And only the Heavens knew how much Irulan hated that pose! "Could it be that you fear them to be prejudiced and in ill favor of such a union?"

"Ah be quiet! I am only attending because it is my duty as a friend!"

"Exactly! DUTY, Irulan!" Irulan only moaned and returned to the landscape. The silence that followed gave her the hopeful idea that Anne had finally given up the tugging. No such luck, of course. "You ARE Aragorn's kin," she growled and it took Irulan a lot of strength not to turn and lock eyes with her. "And heir to his rights."

She sighed finally, glancing only sideways to the determined stance of Anne, who still sat in the same fashion. "I am only a friend who goes for aid. Nothing more, Anne." Unknown to her, a flash fluttered trough her eyes then, as she added with a lower voice, laced with threat: "And nothing less."

***

Finally they arrived at the castle that looked like it had jumped out of ancient times – standing on the hill overlooking many others and in the middle of a dense forest. Both girls just remained agape, unable to find words to say, as the car approached this dazzling piece of architecture. They were expecting something of this nature, yes, but it was still understandable that city life can never prepare you for a sight like this. 

Irulan stepped out of the car when it halted, noticing the silence of the forest. It was strange to her ears that were used to a symphony of annoying sounds. Almost…deafening. The air, too, was…neutral. The scent of the forest was there, yes. Of rain and wet earth. And yet it was almost virginal in its cleanness. And there was that strange sensation…the feeling that time flowed different here. It was a subtle, and yet distinguishable feeling (if one gave heed to it) in all locations where elves dwelled for a prolonged time. Even in Middle Earth, places like Lothlorien or Rivendell had had their own aura that was born from their long stay there. It was only normal that places, locations, dwellings pull and tend to hold the very essence, air and mood of their long-term visitors. No doubt that Auschwitz held an air of dread, even though it was closed and unused for many years; that Jerusalem remained mystical, though the mighty people who have passed through it are long gone; and that…this castle was simply…simply… "Underwater," thought Irulan suddenly. "A glittering metal underneath layers and layers of blue, salty waters. Waiting to be found and pulled out."

She unconsciously took a shaky breath and only woke from her daze when a servant walked up to them, greeting and welcoming them. Smiling shyly to him, she followed him inside as Anne remained with the driver, asking him directions to the city. 

Irulan followed the man, who led him through a maze of corridors, rooms, halls. "Lord Greenleaf was expecting your arrival. He wanted to meet you before you retired to your chamber, my lady," he said, half-turning to her as Irulan followed him in amazement, trying to see everything at once. At his words she blinked and snapped around. 

"Y-you mean…NOW?" she croaked, unable to keep the alarm from her voice. 

"Yes. We will pass by his chambers. I am sure that he does not mean to keep you long."

Irulan, caught very off-guard by such news, gulped audibly. Thankfully the servant did not hear it in his hasty stride. She had never met Legolas and to be honest, the idea of meeting THE elf, the one who had actually taken part in the legendary Fellowship (not to mention, the one who held one the highest position in the Circle) made her more nervous than her possible and probable confrontation with the Council. She had often thought about what he would be like. Too often. Meeting Legolas was, after all, meeting a distant part of her past. Meeting the elf who had befriended Aragorn himself. "But I am not ready!" she said unconsciously. Then, realizing that she had indeed uttered the words, hastily added: "I can meet Lord Greenleaf later. I am sure that he is busy and…"

"Ah but here he comes!" cut in the servant then and Irulan, her breath caught in her throat, could do nothing else but follow his gaze up a set of stairs that led to a dim corridor. A corridor through which a figure was walking at the moment. A figure that continued his stroll to arrive at the stairs and began a gentle and leisure descent.

The servant uttered a small description of her quarters (which her mind barely picked up) and then left. Thereby leaving her alone with…with this…creature. Irulan gulped again, her grasp tighter on her bag, her eyes unable to detach themselves from the man who had noted her presence already.

The first thing that went through her mind upon his sight was 'He is immaculate!' And Legolas truly was. Always had been. Always would be. All elves had an aura around them that invoked amazement, true. And most were the kind one would turn on the street to take a second look at. But, as with every other creature, they had their range. And this one was, without a doubt, one of the finest samples. 

And very aware of that. 

He glided down the stairs, his fingers absent-mindedly buttoning the sleeves of his fabulous black shirt, his silver-blonde and quite long hair hanging loosely in the back, his matching black and by the looks of it, expensive, pants revealing only the most beautiful of male forms. 

His skin had that natural elven glow to it and his eyes spoke of…centuries. Irulan gulped for a third time despite herself and hastily looked down with the urge to gain control over her heart again. No matter how many times she came face to face with them, elves still had an incredible effect on her. One she had learned to resent, for it made her look so…weak, and girly and…human. 

She did not look up until the man came and stood before her, looking down at her. And Irulan doubted that anyone could look more arrogant at the moment. She swallowed softly and pushing her chin up and her shoulders back, tried to look as unimpressed as ever. 

"Finally we meet," he said and by the gods, his voice was beautiful! Irulan smiled and giving a curt nod, extended her hand. He shook it gently, his skin incredibly soft as it was with all elves. 

"So we do. I was looking forward to this, Master Legolas." His blue eyes fixed her with that sentence and Irulan sensed immediately that he did not like her usage of his real name. He said nothing, but his eyes gained a frosty hue. She managed a shy smile, against all odds. Not knowing what to say to a man of his position, finally she sighed: "This is a nice castle."

Legolas did not answer right away. He clasped his hands behind his back and began a leisure walk through the gigantic hall, and Irulan followed, looking up at him with expectation. "It keeps me away from the rest of the world," came his cool reply.

"Is that…good or bad?" Irulan only realized that she had actually spoken after the words rolled off her tongue. 

He halted and looked down at her as she shifted uncomfortably on her feet, her gaze taking in the immensely tall windows. Deciding that it would be better to return his gaze and thereby assure him that her intentions were not evil (as he seemed to think) she looked up. The tenseness only settled further with that as he denied her an answer and, pursing his lips, scanned her with that intimidating gaze. "You are Aragorn's kin," he said all of a sudden, surprising her. His eyes were narrowed and there was an intrigue in his voice as he scanned her features. 

Irulan shifted with discomfort once more. "So they say," she said a moment later, not looking away. His eyes betrayed none of his thoughts and feeling a little annoyed by his hostility, she suddenly said "I suppose I don't look like him," with a tinge of sarcasm. "They say that I resemble Arwen more."

It was meant to be a joke. Irulan knew well enough that she resembled no elf – especially not the legendary beauty of the Evenstar. But obviously Legolas was not a man with a sense of humor. His eyebrows rose and the tenseness doubled instantly. "You were misled, I'm afraid," he said a moment later, his tone as expressionless as his face. Her heart missed a beat. He could NOT be that rude! Surely he did not mean to say-

"For she was a woman of marvelous beauty," he added then. And that was the moment Irulan hated him. Or rather, the first one, since she would have several in the future. Not because of his comment as much as his rude attitude. She had hated men for less. Why should an elf be an exception to the rule?

"I am well aware of that," she said with a low growl after a moment's silence. "It was meant to be a joke." Irritated by having actually explained herself to this rude creature of a man, she clasped her hands behind her and looked away, short of anger. 

Legolas, again, chose not to answer, but resumed his walk and Irulan followed, seething and avoiding to look up again. 

"What news of the world?" he said, his voice berating his disinterest. 

"Last time I looked, it was still turning," she murmured. 

The man ignored her. AGAIN! 'This is certainly beyond impolite at this point,' she thought. "You have no television?" was her slightly bitter question. 

"I do," he groaned. "But I prefer not to watch it."

"Well perhaps you should, then."

The tenseness grew yet again. But Legolas had no intention of letting this human get the better of him. "Famine does not interest me, Lady Irulan. Or war. Or deception, pretense and hypocrisy."

"That is not ALL there is to this world," she retorted with angry disbelief. 

They halted yet again. Irulan realized with frustration that her relationship with this elf had started rather awkwardly and seemed to be set on an uncomfortable path. She just hoped that the ride would not get any bumpier. 

"You are young, Lady Irulan," he said finally. His tone seemed somewhat softer. But she had no intentions of trusting such a sign. He looked as arrogant as ever. "As is your kind." He gave her another look that spoke -ONLY slightly- of sadness and regret. "Children playing with fire," he added, absent-mindedly. 

"I suppose," she said in reply with obvious mocking and bitterness in her tone while she looked up at him again, "we are lucky then that The Council has been taking so good care of the world and the rest of us!" 

For the first time she saw something that looked suspiciously like a shock on the elf's face. He blinked and only managed to stare back for several moments as Irulan stubbornly gazed into his eyes. Brown locked into blue and this was the moment Legolas felt the faintest sense of acquaintance. The feeling that he was NOT standing with some stranger in this hall as the light streamed in from the tall windows, and a silence had covered his surroundings, but someone he knew well. Better than most. 

It was only a fleeting feeling and as quickly as it had appeared, soon dissolved into dislike again. He took a deep breath and diverted his gaze, feeling the rise of irritation of observing the never-ending and ever-frustrating human traits, once more. "I hope that you will find your lodgings to your comfort. And I shall see you at dinner." With that, and not even glancing back at her, he strode away, the pressure on his psyche lessening with each step as if he was leaving deep and dense waters for more shallow and breathable shores. His mind did not dwell on why she exerted such presence. Not now, anyway. 

Irulan watched him walk away, a major part of her downright furious at his "dismissal" of her while a minor part felt…now what was that itchy, peculiar thing…could it be…sadness? She closed her mouth, concentrating on that sentiment and failing to analyze it to the fullest. It _did_ feel a lot like sadness. And why should that be strange? After all, she had been more than excited to meet the man of legend, the very Legolas himself! The only remainder from the Fellowship. The elf who had all the things Tolkien had written about and seen Aragorn and Frodo and Gimli in flesh and blood!

"So much for a legend!" she smirked and thinking that there was indeed nothing magical and romantic and mysterious left in this dull, boring world, turned on her heels to find her way back to her room. 

****


	3. Behold, I am the Daughter of Kings!

"How was he?" squeaked Anne when she heard the news, and jumped on the bed. 

"Not very pleasant," mumbled Irulan and massaged her face, thereby forgetting the make-up on it and giving her face a large smudge. Moaning with frustration she headed to the bathroom to wash it away. 

"Legolas not pleasant? Are you insane, woman?!"

"You'll meet His Majesty soon enough and then YOU can tell me if I am mistaken," was the annoyed and muffled answer. 

"He is a LEGEND, for Heaven's sake!" exclaimed Anne. 

"And a stuck-up, irritating, arrogant…elf!" she spat, appearing with a towel at the entrance to the room. 

"Aren't they all?" was the other woman's reply, together with a shrug of the shoulders. 

"This one is beyond average in all those, I can tell you that," Irulan said and threw the towel back, walking to sit on the other bed. 

"How does he look?" 

Irulan glanced out the window, remembering her short but quite intense conversation. She shrugged and without looking back, said simply "Good."

"GOOD?! I heard him to be GORGEOUS!"

"Alright so he is gorgeous," moaned Irulan, waving her hand in dismissal. "Big deal! His other virtues surely overshadow that!" 

Anne cocked her head as her eyes narrowed. "You really disliked him!" was the awed conclusion. 

"That would be an understatement," Irulan groaned and threw herself back on the bed, to inspect the ceiling. A silence set in. After a few minutes she continued with a low voice, her gaze still locked to the ceiling: "I felt so…disappointed. I mean here I was, meeting THE elf…Legolas, for Heaven's sake! And he was so…distant. So rude. Downright damn RUDE! And I don't mean for an elf, either!"

"Well," sighed Anne then, lying back on her own bed, staring at the ceiling, too, "perhaps we expect too much. These are not the beings we read about in Tolkien's books, you know. They have been around too much. They should be expected to change…like everything else."

Irulan thought about that and found logic in it. And yet…a childish, romantic part of her wanted so much to believe that there were yet some things that were not stained with the dullness the world had faded into. And though elves had always intrigued her and convinced her that this was so, with every new meeting, it was also not impossible –or even probable- that she had been reading too much into things. That they were not as lofty and different as she wanted them to be. 

"Well," she mumbled a moment later, stubbornly resisting on her dislike, "they could have at least change for the BETTER. Period!"

****

Irulan and Anne remained in their rooms, resting till the early evening hours. When darkness began to set, they got up and began the torturous procedure of getting dressed. Torturous, for neither had been amongst such distinctive company before and had no clue as to what kind of appearance would be more proper. Should they wear something serious? Something casual? Graceful? Or just plain? Anne went through every combination while Irulan simply rolled her eyes and decided that she was wearing her black cotton pants and her black shirt, and that was that! She left her hair free, though, knowing that elves had a weakness for that and told herself that she liked it herself like that and that she was NOT aiming to win their liking. 

After that they stepped out of their rooms and began an idle walk around the castle, as excited as Alice in Wonderland. Irulan realized with dismay that the general decoration was rather sophisticated and that Legolas had an interesting taste that combined East and West, old and new, classic and modern. She had seen none of his other homes, of course, and did not know if they were decorated the same way or each in with a different angle and style (he had several in different countries, like most elves. Every couple of years the Firstborn would leave to another and stay there for a few years, only to go to the next a few years afterwards. That gave them enough time span to go on with their lives without making their servants, their staff or others suspicious about the fact of their never aging looks, for by the time they returned with a new name, many years later, there was no one left to recognize them). 

Soon enough a servant found them and guided them to the room where the dinner would be held. When they arrived at the threshold to the chamber, Irulan hesitated for a moment, then under Anne's glance of assurance, took a deep breath and walked in, not sure what to expect and praying to the Powers above that she would survive this night. Not to mention the following ones. 

At her sight, a soft whisper ran through the room, as the ones who knew or recognized her, told others who did not. She was, after all, the legendary Aragorn's kin. And though he had many, she was seen fit to be representing him in her generation. And perhaps more importantly, she was the only one in a very long line whom the Circle had failed to persuade and who had refused that status and chosen independence. How very ironic that even THAT was so Aragorn-like! 

Irulan stood rooted, inspecting the room. Though many had not arrived at the castle yet –including Jonathan and Cate- the crowd in the rather large and fancy room was still enough to make her nervous. Her trained eye picked out the elves easily enough and asserted the fact that she knew none. She had met several dozen of elves in her life, but most were not of higher ranking and resided in the same city or country with her. These, however, were Circle members and had come from all over the world.

Then her gaze caught many familiar human faces, amongst which some were a relieving sight, while most were rather discomforting. Irene was there – a woman with light brown, curly hair and freckles. Tall and skinny as a stick. Irulan smiled at her and the woman smiled back warmly, nodding her head. Then her gaze collided with Elizabeth – shorter but quite dashing with blue-black hair and blue eyes. That one only wrinkled her nose and Irulan stared coldly back before she continued. Finally her looks collided with those of Michael, the most highly ranked human member of the Circle. And the first member she had met. 

Several years earlier he had shown up at her door and persistently told a story about a secret society that was established basically to play a major part in the "guidance" of governments and people and about how Tolkien had written not fantasy, but only a fraction of the truth and how that truth prevailed even today – though known only to a select few. Irulan had listened with a patience that had surprised even herself, and had dealt quite maturely with this information. Until he had said that some of said elves were still living today, amongst us. That was when the rolling of eyes and the mumbled "Whatever," was replaced with a long, silent stare and an annoyed, edgy "WHAT?!" on her behalf. 

It had taken Irulan surprisingly little time to adjust to such a reality. What had taken her time, was to accept her place in it. 

The world became instantly a far more mysterious place after this knowledge, and for a while she was drowned in the bliss of it. She had visited the Circle branch in her city many times, taking advantage of their records and their library, to which she had complete access due to her status. She had read and watched and learned, gulping down this new way of things greedily. But the more contact she had sought with them, the more she became aware of their expectations from her – which was, mainly, for her to take her place in the society. Not to mention, under the tight control of the likes of Michael.

And exactly that, was what Irulan didn't want. Her relationship with the Circle reached a tense balance after that and this balance failed completely one day when someone called her a drifter and a coward, afraid to accept her responsibilities. "Just like Aragorn," he had added. And Irulan, who had until that moment not felt any connection to that name (other than liking his role in the books) suddenly, and to her own surprise, had felt incredibly offended on his behalf and an amazing sense of protectiveness had overcome her. The argument had grown further and further and finally had brought her break-up with the society and she had chosen to reject her place and her task, walking away from the seat reserved for her.

She and Anne did indeed meet a few other elves after that (it was easy to spot and approach them once one gained full knowledge and belief in their existence) and befriended some quite closely. Members of the Circle approached them from time to time yet again. But the distance prevailed, for Irulan wanted to hear nothing of their society and their work and their role in the world again. 

She had not seen Michael for years now and the bitter expression on his face did not speak of friendship on his behalf. He had never liked her, anyway. From the start, he had only envied her and viewed her as a dangerous and yet powerful animal that needed a leash. A leash that HE should be holding. Irulan pushed her chin up, glared back defensively, then softly walked into the room and began the process of meeting the present company one by one.

The elves were kind enough and glided to her without hesitation, introducing themselves. Most human members remained aloof and distant and she did not bother to take the first step to make acquaintance. Barely had she gone through the introduction part, when dinner was ready and all seated themselves at the long table that was adorned with an incredible amount and variety of food. The servants, knowing that their presence was not wanted in such secluded dinners, vanished then and the company relaxed as everyone slowly assumed their real names and identities.

Dinner began tense. And though it warmed up after that for most, for Irulan it only became tenser. The talk of the night was, for both the elves and the humans, the incredible violence, brutality, greed and flaws of the humans. And what it did to the world. And to the populations. And to nature. And the rest of the living beings on the planet. She listened and listened and listened. And found herself frustrated as elves analyzed these traits with cool aloofness and humans only nodded like puppets, confirming when necessary and exaggerating when needed. She exchanged glances with Anne, who, observing her tenseness, several times leaned in to whisper a string of threats if she dared to speak up in reply. 

So she did not. And ate. Then ate some more, unable not to listen to the conversation. Then drank. And drank more. Exchanged glances with Anne again. And finally it was simply too much. 'I am only human, damn it!' she told herself and at that point, it seemed the most reasonable explanation to all that would follow. And what followed, was not exactly one of her most glorious moments. "Why do you speak so about us?!" she said, speaking for the first time, and with a bitter tone of voice, too. That stilled the entire table as everyone's look followed hers to rest on the figure of Legolas. 

Legolas, momentarily surprised at that and the fact that she was speaking to no other but him, remained fixed on her before he answered: "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"I think you do," seethed Irulan, not caring if the whole table -adorned with elves and quite important humans- was witnessing the interaction. He looked at her blankly and that only served to make her more angry. 

"Have I offended you in any manner, Lady Irulan?" he said finally, his voice gaining a softness and though it was tempting to give in to it, she felt not up for such virtues at the moment. 

"You have offended me and my kind, yes," she spat then and the rustle of people shifting in their seats indicated that her words were not to be overheard. 

"Pray explain," Legolas said with mild awe. As annoying as the situation was, it was something different and a part of him, that had fallen asleep in a comfortable slumber, woke up to it. 

"Pray explain?!" exclaimed Irulan in amazement and ignored the soft kick she received from Anne. "You must be joking! I mean…from the very beginning of this meal I have been listening about the…the weakness…and shallowness, and incredible coarseness and cruelness of humans," she spat, beyond herself. "As a matter of fact," she said, releasing her fork and leaning back on her chair, "we sound lower than orcs, when you describe us, Master Legolas!"

A gasp ran through the table upon the mention of that word and Anne pursed her lips unconsciously, observing the frown, alarm, shock and surprise on the faces. Along with the amusement on some. Like Haldir, who was looking at Irulan with a fabulous smile on his lips. 

"You must have misunderstood me," Legolas began then, but was –to his own amazement- cut off:

"I think not, Master Elf! You give me too little credit."

At that moment, something incredible happened. For her choice of words, her tone and just the way she said it, reminded him of Gimli so much that he took a sharp breath with the slap of it. Unconsciously his grip on his fork grew, whitening his knuckles as his blue eyes remained fixed on her, staring with suppressed and yet amazed disbelief and bewilderment. It had been easily years since he had recalled the Dwarf and the pain of such unexpected recollection was beyond anything he would imagine. His mind instantly tore into two, a part of it remaining at the dinner table, trying to shake himself awake while another part simply glided back to that incredible age. The age of joy. The age of friendship. Of great deeds. Great sacrifices and great gains. The age he had shared with the Fellowship. The years he had spent with Estel. And the travels he had enjoyed with Gimli. He swallowed, short of trembling and in his daze, failed to look away from the brown eyes of Irulan that spoke of fury and disappointment. 

Seeing that he would not answer, she decided to continue. And this time diverted her gaze to the other elves at the table, gazing each in the eye as she spoke: "What should we call speaking so of humans when you have fought alongside them and FOR them? What, if not hypocrisy?" A whisper of disbelief ran through the guests, but Irulan ignored it. The disappointment was squeezing her heart, choking the words out of her. "You, who have DESERTED this place to us!" she spat finally and gained a far heftier kick by Anne. 

"Speak no more, Irulan!" spat Michael then, and Irulan felt baffled by the anger in his gaze. She swallowed softly then cast her gaze down at her plate. And the Irulan she herself knew would stammer an apology and get up to leave. But a spell must have been cast on her this day. For she felt incapable of stopping herself as she looked up again:

"I will cease when I am finished," she hissed and it was Michael's turn to be surprised. Which was not a common thing. Irulan pushed up her chin and leaned even further back in her chair. "I came here hoping for a different environment from what the world has become. But found only disapproval for what I am. In other words, this place is no different from what I face out there every day. And though you might feel distinguished and more virtuous, I see but the very same flaws in you, that you criticize so mercilessly."

A silence set in then. And Irulan waited under the pressure of it, not daring to break it. Legolas was still locked on her, as was the majority of the table. But that fire in her veins refused to dwindle and die. She was about to get up and leave, thinking that there was no point in remaining, when Haldir suddenly spoke up: "You ARE indeed Aragorn's kin," he said softly and Irulan, momentarily surprised by such a comment, looked up to meet his clear and sincere gaze. That only served to confuse her further and as amazing as it was, finally managed to break the flames in her. She tore her gaze, looking at her fingers that were playing with the napkin. Feeling her protective shield fading, she swallowed softly and pursed her lips, suddenly very self-conscious. 

"I'm afraid I have begun to doubt that," she said then, to her own amazement. She did not look up and no one dared to move as Irulan continued playing with the napkin. 

Legolas failed to stop his observation of her. He tried to turn away from her. To close this chapter, to shut this lid and to let the box fall into the well of dismissal. He really did. Only Haldir was right – she was INDEED Aragorn's kin. He instantly recognized the fire. The spirit. The essence. The something that, over thousands of years, diluted as it may be, had traveled down and down and further down from person to person, to this mortal woman at his table. The something that had burned in the very eyes of his dearest friend. And for that moment, as far away Estel was now, lost in time, he was also here, sitting not too far from him. 

He swallowed hard, trying to turn away from this discovery again. And failing once more. The dearest of times swam back to him and oh how he hated to remember it! How he hated the fact that it was beyond and behind him for all times, now! And yet…how he missed it! How the slightest reminder ignited both frustration and yet excitement in him! How it burned him with both longing and yet such indescribable joy! 

In his mind, an elf turned around and locked gaze with him. He felt himself mesmerized by the fact that he wore the brown-green Mirkwood hunting attire and the war braid. So real he looked, a grim and yet sad expression on his so well known features. 'Did I really look like that?' he thought in amazement, stupefied by the vision. A breeze ruffled the hair of his twin as he shifted on his feet, right by the dark, yawning abyss that divided them. It mattered not. For even though they were apart, it was a glance to a time and a person he had ceased to believe in. And it stole his breath away. 

"Nay," said Haldir then and broke his concentration. Luckily so, for Legolas felt most discomforted of such a strong vision that had come down on him so suddenly and without warning. "I have met Estel. And I can tell you easily enough…he lives in you."

At that, both Irulan and Legolas, baffled beyond measure, looked up to the elf as their minds floated in opposite directions. 

"No way!" thought Irulan, unable to answer the statement in her daze. 

"Indeed," thought Legolas, in awe of such a thing. 

The only thing they shared was their strong, itchy discomfort that came with the discovery.

***

After that, the dinner table became silent and wary. Irulan silently cursed herself for being so damn impulsive and temperamental. At her age and status, she should really be a little more controlled! By the looks she was receiving from both Michael and Anne, she was not the only one thinking so. She sighed and continued chewing, the taste of the food evading her senses, even though it was of the finest nature.

There was not much left to converse upon and eventually dinner reached an ending. Legolas bid his guests to proceed to the library for coffee or wine and though Irulan seriously thought about apologizing herself and leaving to her room, Anne grabbed her arm and almost dragged her to the location. 

She remained awkwardly standing, gazing up at the shelves of books. Any other day, the view would have taken her breath away. Today, though affecting her, it was not enough to distract her from her inner argument. She sighed and sipped her coffee as a shadow fell on her and she found herself nose to nose with a fuming Michael. They stared at each other for a long time. Finally he spoke, his voice as calm as ever, but edgy and sharp: "What, may I ask, was that, Irulan?"

Irulan sipped her coffee again and looked away. "I was being honest. Something wrong with that?" 

"You were being rude. And yes, A LOT is wrong with that," he hissed in reply. 

"So?" she said then with a low growl. "It was ME being rude. You have nothing to worry about. Your image was not hurt, I am sure."

He took a deep breath and pushed his chin up, still glaring down at her. "This circle has managed to keep respectful and civilized for longer than your brain can conceive," he said, his tone downright frosty. "You are in no position to scold elves. ELVES! And certainly in no position to scold Lord Legolas." She rolled her eyes in use of that title, but Michael continued: "Not to mention that in this occasion he happens to be our host. And very right, on top of that!"

"Now wait a minute-"

"I am not finished!" he hissed and Irulan halted, startled. 

He took a small step towards her and stood towering above her. Irulan heard the silent, smooth conversations around her continuing, but could not look away from the green eyes of the man before her. "You were invited not for your wisdom, your insight or your knowledge. You were invited solely for your status and your lineage. This, and this alone!" He fixed her for another moment before he added: "At least you can TRY to be more worthy of it."

Her mouth fell open at that and anger brushed over her heart once more. 'How dare he?!' she thought in bewilderment, staring up at him, her coffee forgotten in her hand. And then he was gone. Which was terrible, because she was denied the chance of a response. What that response would be, Irulan did not know. Because mixed with anger was also a feeling of dread. The dread of knowing, no matter how rudely put, there was a truth to Michael's words. She was nothing more than Aragorn's kin. Invited only out of kindness and respect to his memory. She had no knowledge in these matters. And not to mention, less than a child compared to the ageless creatures that were residing here today. 

Irulan swallowed and looked around her, suddenly feeling small and worthless. She observed the elves and men standing in groups, softly speaking, chuckling or listening with rapt focus. It was almost impossible to tell them apart - since elves were regularly undergoing plastic surgery to reshape their ears in the human fashion. They had discovered a long time ago that this was to their favor and that, with enough expertise and skill it was possible to undergo a surgery of this nature, and -with the proper care and medications- to keep the shape for several years. Their natural gift of healing eventually re-shaped the ear, but in the meantime they caused fewer eyebrows to rise and, well by that time, another operation was performed. 

Nevertheless, seeing them together now and knowing which was which, Irulan found it rather easy to spot the difference. It was not the lack of facial hair. Not the flawless and smooth skin. Not the lithe build. Not even the long hair that, even after centuries, many refused to change (long hair was and would always remain a liking for the Firstborn, and though sometimes they cut it to blend in with their environments or to change their looks, many preferred to let it grow back at the first chance they got and often, when in a more comfortable environment, even let it flow freely or braided it in a peculiar fashion). It was not their expensive and tasteful clothing. Or their relaxed, yet alert stance. 

It was simply…an air about them. An aura that humans lacked. Something that could be very easily overlooked by someone not knowing about their existence or their presence in a particular location, but easily detectable by someone else who was looking for it. 

She sighed finally and placing her cup on one of the tables, silently left the library to go to her room. Eager to be left alone, she paced away in haste, unawaree that her departure was noticed by many, including Legolas, but was kindly overlooked.

***

Legolas remained in the library till everyone left. Elves needed very little sleep and most of his elven guests had remained till later hours with him. But eventually the conversations had come to an ending as they, with the patience of timeless creatures, saw no reason to talk about anything and everything in one single night, and glided to their chambers. 

Only Haldir stayed behind, his fingers playing with the wine glass in his hand. Legolas sighed and exited to another room, and from there to a rather large balcony as his friend followed. They stood staring at the sky for many minutes. "I have forgotten how wonderful the night sky looks here," was Haldir's gentle comment. 

"It is the rain," the other elf replied, not diverting his gaze from the stars, either, "and the lack of city lights, of course."

Haldir nodded softly. "Yes. And no. It is…perhaps the air here. To look up at the same sky from the same lands where my feet have stood, in the Old Days." He was not surprised at Legolas' lack of answer. The elf seldom engaged in any conversation related to the Old Days. One might have thought that he did not look back too fondly and tried to evade the idea on purpose. But Haldir knew better. Legolas was TOO fond of the Old Days, and in his longing, strayed away from the fierce fire it woke in him. "I am very glad of the cast, this year," he added, taking a small sip from his wine. "It is far more colorful than the former years."

"Indeed," was the cool reply. 

Haldir smiled deftly, in assurance that the other man would not see, his back being turned to him. "It is good to see that Aragorn's flame did not go out, yet." He received no answer and no other form of response to that. "She is quite interesting, don't you think?"

Legolas turned to look at him, then, and his gaze reflected perfect elven blankness. "My pick of words would be different." He  placed his elbow on the railing and leaned slightly back onto it as the moonlight shimmered on his hair and made it look more silver than blonde. 

The other man shrugged deftly. "You once admired Estel for his passion. For his vitality."

"She is not Estel," retorted Legolas, his eyes following Haldir's leisure walk to the railing beside him. 

"Oh no! She is far prettier than that rugged Ranger," chuckled his guest. 

The former Prince pursed his lips and turned away. As any elf, he was always alert and observant - about himself as well as others. And today that observance brought with it strange details. Details that needed to be inspected, placed together and then understood like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. And that required a silent and solitary atmosphere. He did not like to talk about matters before that kind of mental preparation. For one thing, if he did, someone -especially an elf like Haldir- could lure him into a difficult or uncomfortable position, making him realize, do or say things that he would regret later on. 

The notion of Lady Irulan was such a matter. The feelings and ideas that roamed in that particular territory of his mind were too mingled and somewhat strange to be conversed upon so soon. He detected anger, yes. And dislike. Definitely shock at her rudeness. And impatience with her lack of manners. Yet…there was something else there. Something that made him itch somewhat - itch with the foreboding that it was not a discovery to his liking, or the fact that it was so shrouded and hidden from him at all, he did not know. 

"I like her," Haldir said then, breaking his train of thought. 

"You like all of them," he replied with disinterest, joining the elf in his observation of the view, once more. 

"And you like none." When Legolas did not answer for several moments, he continued, feeling a sense of naughtiness returning. It had been too long since he had felt in this manner. "I never saw you taking a beating like that, before." His gaze swept over the profile of his friend. "You barely attempted a defense. Was it because she was right?" he mused.

"No," said Legolas curtly. "It was because she is an ignorant child with no knowledge of the world, no sense of control and no manners. And I am far too old to engage in childish arguments. If not for the sake of her lineage, she would never be granted the right to attend a meeting like this. And that would be a far wiser thing. For both parties, I might add." As soon as he had spat out the last words with an edgy voice, he knew that he had made a mistake and walked into the very trap that he had tried to avoid. Because Haldir, who had, no doubt, picked up the anger in his voice -no matter how elusive- and who had also noticed him answering in more sentences and words than he would normally do, was looking at him with a very damnable expression that spoke of amusement and surprise. 

Resisting the prominent urge to utter a curse and leave, Legolas slowly turned and faced the other elf, locking eyes with him in an unrelenting gaze. The duel lasted for a few moments. Finally it was Haldir who spoke up and his tone was laced with amusement. "You did not deny that she was right, Legolas."

He clenched his jaws then, taking a deep breath as his gaze swept over the green and lush view, that looked nothing less than exquisite under the light of moon and stars, but seeing none of it. "I will see you later, Haldir. Good night," he said and turning on his heels, left silently, disappearing in the shadows. Not aware that he had uttered the sentence in elvish and that he never did so, unless extremely confused or angry.

***

'She is not right,' he told himself silently, lying in his bed, his arms crossed under his head as his eyes grazed the ceiling. 'She is not right.'

It was simple. So why would that feeling of fooling himself not go away? Legolas, annoyed by such stubbornness, turned his head to look out of the tall window that held the moon. 'I DO like humans. I fought for them. Many times. I still fight for them,' he continued in his mind, eager to still the opposition in him and to put it to rest. And indeed, the fire seemed to dim a little at that. 'I risked my life many times, no matter how slim the odds stood in our favor. And I have never regretted it. Not once.'

Several minutes passed. In his mind, Irulan snorted and he felt annoyance rising up once more. She was like...damn it...exactly like...that impossible DWARF! That realization left him baffled for a moment, then made him jump out of his bed, walking back and forth on the soft carpet of his dim room. 

"You elves are such proud creatures!" Gimli rumbled with that brassy voice of his, and how odd a thing the mind was – for after centuries, the memory of that abrasive voice had not diminished in detail, at all. Legolas smiled unconsciously, continuing his walk, but letting the past slowly set in, like an intoxicating smoke that glided into his lungs and brought back long lost visions.

"If you ask me, being in possession of such virtues and skill, I would say we are but humble," said Legolas with an amused smile, stirring the small fire.

"HUMBLE?!" was the thunderous rumble and the elf grinned at his friend's lack of vocal control. They were in the middle of a rather eerie forest, in a moonless night, foreign to the place, but Gimli nevertheless barked as if it was midday and a busy marketplace. "Even a dwaven woman would be humble compared to you. And that says a lot!" The elf shrugged and stepped away from the fire, sitting in the perimeter of it and watching the flames slowly grow. "Don't think we don't see it, you know," mumbled Gimli then. 

"See what?"

"How you look down at us. ALL of us!" Legolas only stared back in confusion and the dwarf took out his piece of cloth to clean his axe, as he always did when he was in a nasty mood. Unknown to him, his friend had observed and realized this silly habit a long time ago. "You think you are so lofty! So…above all else!"

"But it is true," was the soft reply and Legolas laughed a melodious laugh when his head snapped up to reveal a very annoyed stare. The dwarf uttered some dwarvish curses, and thank the Heavens that Legolas did not know dwarvish, for the tip of his ears would have turned red, if he had. 

"I am sitting here in the middle of nowhere with you, am I not?" he added a moment later with a softer tone to cool Gimli's temper. "Would I do so if I looked down at you, Master Dwarf?"

"Well…perhaps you dare not do so," was the rumble of a reply and evoked the raising of eyebrows as a reply. "Or...having come to know me, no doubt grew aware of my many unsurpassable merits!" 

"Speaking of modesty," sighed Legolas with a smile, but Gimli pretended not to hear. 

"Alas, you have grown to like me as a person. But how about dwarves in general, Legolas? Do you like them? Or do you presume to see men your equal?"

The elf did not answer and instead, lay down on his mattress, crossing his arms below his head and looking up to the branches above. "Some, I see above myself," he said slowly and both knew that he meant Estel. 

"Some," nodded Gimli, feeling satisfied with his end of the argument and in no more need to polish his axe, tucked away the cloth. "You lost your nerve when you met Boromir." 

"I have n-"

"And your first sentence to Eomer was actually a threat."

"Well he-"

"All in all," continued Gimli with a sigh, "throughout this trip I had to endure your complaints about the filth of humans and the insensitivity and noisiness of dwarves and the childishness of Hobbits." His companion's silence gave him the answer he needed. He grinned and proceeded to lie down on his own blanket. "And I myself have been treated quite rudely by your kind," he added then. "I'll never forget the looks you elves gave me at that council!"

Legolas gasped in shock and raised himself on his elbows to look in his direction. "You tried to smash the Ring of Power with your axe, Gimli. The RING OF POWER!" was his amazed and disbelieving reply. 

"So?" the dwarf said curtly. "Would we have known that it did not work if I had not given it a try?" He disregarded the elf's dry look and continued: "Anyway. Elrond looked at me as if he wanted to grab my own axe and hack me with it! Not to mention that Haldir fellow! And you say we dwarves are rude!" His companion grinned deftly and lay back down at the memory. Haldir and Gimli had had the chance for many verbal duels in the past and each time Legolas had to bite his lips to prevent laughter from erupting. "The point is, elves are stuck-up creatures who have no advantage other than old age. Which makes them wretched and edgy, to begin with!"

"How ungrateful after we have fought so many battles side by side!" retorted Legolas with mock hurt. 

"You do not fight side by side," was the dismissive reply, followed by a yawn. "You only help the less strong, for it is a matter of pride and self-congratulation for yourselves. You assume it to be your duty. To look after Middle Earth. To look after the 'lower' creatures here. Out of pity, Legolas. Out of pity."

Legolas shook his head and continued inspecting the branches above, which were rather clear to his elven eyes. He did not agree. Gimli simply misunderstood the good intentions of his kind. A few moments later he spoke up softly: "All aside, I have a question to ask."

"Ask away," mumbled Gimli. 

"Did you just call Lady Galadriel stuck-up, old and wretched?"

Gimli barked another string of curses and turned his back to Legolas, whose melodious laughter once again filled the woods. 

****


	4. Wading Into Deeper Waters

Hello everyone,

I am so glad that most of you have gotten used to this new façade of things. It is not easy to adjust to, I am aware of that. And yet, change is always welcome. 

For those who asked: The history given in the books is made up by me. Though I will take it a compliment that some thought they were actually quoted!

I know it is depressing. And full with angst. And dark. Yet, this is what I wanted – a break of the same Legolas and the same romance. A story that led into rawer feelings and harsher realizations. No pink romance here. But dark longing. 

"I can not BELIEVE you!" said Anne in shock, remaining rooted at the door. Irulan just rolled her eyes and stepped around her, already having begun to loosely braid her hair for the night. "What were you thinking, Irulan?!"

"I was thinking that that arrogant creature deserved something far worse," she sighed, watching the braiding process in the mirror. 

"He is our HOST, you fool!"

"Does not mean I have to sit and take all that crap!" she said with an edgy voice and reeled back on Anne. "As a matter of fact," she added then, cocking her head and narrowing her eyes, "I am surprised YOU did. I mean.....the least you could do was to support me." 

"Against ELVES?" was the disbelieving reply of Anne, followed by a roll of her eyes. "In any case......they had a point, you know."

The other woman threw up her hands and turned away, continuing her task. "Does not matter, Anne," she said after a moment of tense silence. "They are EXACTLY like humans. They can't see beyond the limits in their vision. Not to mention, as RUDE as humans, too!"

"If I had to compare you guys, "Anne said then, proceeding to undress, herself, "YOU would definitely take the prize today. Lord Legolas-..."

"Would you PLEASE not call him that!"

"We both know that he is a Lord," said Anne with a blank face. At Irulan's angry expression she said "Or would you prefer 'Prince'?"

"Just call him Heath. That's his name now, remember?" was the mocking reply.

"Anyway. I still think he is gorgeous. Incredibly attractive!" mused Anne.

Irulan only moaned and proceeded to the bathroom. To her dismay, Anne followed. "He is THE elf, Irulan! A member of the-"

"I don't care!" hissed Irulan then, cutting her off. "I just want this thing to be over fast, that's all!"

They stared at each other for a moment. Finally Anne said "Wow.......you certainly REACT, my friend," with a low and surprised voice. 

Irulan just clenched her jaws and went to bed, harshly pulling the covers over her. Neither spoke for the remainder of the night. 

****

She did not go for breakfast the next day. And told herself stubbornly that it was not out of shame, but due of the fact that she did not like breakfast. Never had. Instead, she stole out of the house –actually "giant castle" was more the word for it, but nevertheless- and attempted a stroll. Which proved to be more difficult than thought, for the rain had turned the gardens into a heaven of mud and Irulan, never having expected so much rain and never having seen so much earth in one location, had failed to calculate the combination and therefore, not attained any suitable boots for the purpose. 

She tried to walk here and there, but gave up eventually and decided to return, with a sense of defeat. On her way back she encountered guests from the night before and only nodded curtly, avoiding any further dialogue. Thankfully they were kind enough and did the same, showing not the slightest sign of remembering her behavior of the former night. 

And just when she thought that things were not going as bad as she had feared they would, a voice chimed close to her and even before she lifted her head, her face fell. 

"We missed you at breakfast," Elizabeth said and Irulan had to fight with all her might to keep away a moan. 

"I'm sure you did," she mumbled and attempted to walk by. To her dread, the woman joined her and as if invited, began a lazy stroll alongside Irulan, who was trying very hard not to quit the fight and sink down to sit. 

"I assume that it was your little.....act......from yesterday that kept you from attending?"

At that, Irulan halted and looked up with disbelief. Elizabeth stared back with a perfect smile plastered on her face. Many moments passed before she spoke: "I do not regret my actions from yesterday, Elizabeth," she said, a little out of breath from the entire struggle. "I stand to my word."

"So I see, dear colleague," she said then, her smile growing a little wider. Irulan, amazed by such boldness, blinked, and shaking her head, continued to walk with the mud making her feet incredibly heavy. Elizabeth, who had no mud on her soles (and only the Heavens know how that was possible!) joined her. "Lord Legolas," she continued and Irulan literally rolled her eyes, "was incredibly kind to overlook your rudeness. He could have replied and embarrass you in front of everyone. Oh wait!" she said then with mock realization, "_you already did that yourself!" A fabulous smile lit her face them. _

"Perhaps he did not, because he had enough sense to see that I was right," she spat, too occupied with her mud-battle to give her a better and heftier reply. "Unlike SOME!"

"Just because your lineage goes back to a mighty man," hissed Elizabeth then and Irulan halted once more, startled by the hate and fury she saw in those blue eyes, "does not mean that there is anything mighty about you, Irulan."

"What is it with the lot of you?!" she exclaimed then, placing her hand on her hip and shifting to take a more threatening stance. "Why on earth should I -or anyone else for that matter- be less than anyone present here?!" rang her voice in the deserted garden, as her arm waved out to include the castle. The other woman hastily looked around her, alarmed at Irulan's uncaring behavior and unconsciously stepped a little away. Then, not in the mood of proving her cowardice, simply remained standing and staring back. 

"I am a human, yes!" Irulan said and to her own demise, although being aware of her unfitting tone of voice, could not bring herself to change it. "I have faults and flaws, yes. SO?! I also do happen to have other and good.....aspects….." (she failed to find a better word at the moment), "……that, for some reason, no one is interested in seeing!"

Elizabeth smirked then and said "I'm sure that you have none of tho-.."

She was mercilessly cut off by the other woman though: "I don't expect you to understand, Elizabeth, cause you happen to have the brain of a squirrel. And all squirrels shall forgive me for saying this!" Alright now this was really RUDE. She needed to stop. NOW. But to her own demise, continued: "But yes, I do have virtues, skills, good and nice aspects. As –incredible but true- do you! And anyone else on this planet! Elves are amazing creatures, yes, but no better than me. I stand to that, period!"

"ANYONE is better than you!" yelled Elizabeth then and the fact that she actually yelled alone was a mighty surprise. 

They both stared at each other again in silence. Finally Irulan shook her head and clenched her jaw. "Even if, Elizabeth," she said with a low voice, "I refuse to excuse for who or what I am. And who asked for your opinion anyway?" she added then with a firmer voice. "Why waste time in a muddy garden with silly ME? Go and be with the better ones, then." Elizabeth clenched her jaws, too, and did not move. Irulan smiled an evil smile. "Or could it be that they are too good for you, too?" she said with a bemused tone. "Not feeling worthy, Elizabeth?" 

The woman gulped audibly and if for nothing else, Irulan congratulated herself for making a woman like Elizabeth gulp. 

Another staring duel ignited between them. Then was broken by a third voice: "Can we be of any assistance, ladies?"

And why was it that the voice had to belong to no other than Haldir? And why oh why did his companion at the moment have to be LORD Legolas himself?! Irulan barely kept herself from moaning and cursing. Here she was, literally stuck in mud, drenched in sweat, looking like a pig (especially since Mighty Aphrodite Elizabeth was there to be compared with) and most certainly heard screaming and yelling for minutes now, since elven ears happened to be so damn sensitive. 

She looked away in annoyance at the penetrating gaze she was receiving from Legolas and tried to shake off some of the mud from her boots. "No, thank you," she said curtly, not looking up again. 

"We should have warned you about the mud," Haldir said then gently, "You lead a city life. And it is your first time here."

Irulan smiled up at him, then, her sympathy for the elf instantly doubling. She had observed his mature and soft ways the day before, yes, but every reminder was welcome. "Actually.....it was interesting. I got never stuck in mud before. And well.....you have to do all things in life at least once, right?"

Haldir laughed a melodious laugh then, and Irulan, seldom having heard an elf laugh, was dumbstruck by it. He walked towards her and she watched with fascination how he did not sink in, even in spots where the earth seemed softer. Arriving by her side, he smiled in understanding. "Light of foot, remember?" he said slyly, winking to her. 

"Oh," was her dazed reply. Haldir reached out and slowly enclosed his long fingers around her hand and for the strangest reason, that innocent action made her heart beat three times faster. She looked up to his face and felt nothing short of awe. 

He offered her support to step out of the muddy spot and guided her towards firmer places. Irulan stood wiping the sole of her boots on the grass as everyone just observed her in silence and finally managing to wipe off at least a good part of it, looked up smiling to Haldir. "Thanks," she said, realizing that he had not let go of her hand. 

"No matter to thank for," he said gently, smiling back himself. A short silence issued between them during which she was acutely aware of the penetrating gaze of both Legolas and Elizabeth. "You did not attend breakfast today," he said finally and Irulan blinked in surprise. 

"Em......yes. I am not really a breakfast person." She swallowed softly, feeling awkward and trying very hard not to think about her hand in his. 

"Perhaps some coffee or tea, then?" 

Irulan laughed softly. "I am addicted to coffee. To say the least."

"Wonderful! It is one of my favorites, as well. Would you join me for a cup, then?" he said, his smile growing. And without waiting for an answer he guided her hand to his arm. 

The only thing Irulan could think of at the moment was 'Finally I met an elf who acts like an elf!' Her fingers gained a stronger grasp on his arm as Haldir broke away to look back at Legolas who was still observing the couple with a blank look, his hands clasped behind his back. "I will see you later, my friend. Good day," he said and if Irulan did not know better, she would say that his voice had a certain mocking tone to it. Legolas, though, showed no reaction whatsoever and instead only fixed his eyes on Irulan who was slowly guided away from the scene, already feeling much better for leaving the perimeter of that frosty elf. 

"How can you tell that he is still alive?" she whispered inaudibly when they had put a good enough distance between themselves and the other two. "He might be dead and we would never know!"

She flinched slightly with surprise at the beautiful laugh Haldir offered her the second time this day and not being able to do anything else, broke into a smile at his amusement. "Lady Irulan! You are truly an immaculate being!" he said, his eyes a sparkling river as he briefly placed his hand on hers. 

She glanced back and saw that Legolas and Elizabeth were standing together, conversing. Though at Haldir's laughter the other elf had looked up to them and the blue of his eyes was visible even from this distance. For no apparent reason she felt a sense of satisfaction then and turned back to the man by her side. "Was he always like this?" she said, feeling bold at his ease of attitude. 

Haldir smiled a wry smile then and looked into the distance. "No. To be honest with you, he was a very different person once." Irulan just gazed up at him, baffled by his way of speaking and his gentle voice and the way he just rolled the words on his tongue. It was.....magnetic just to hear him speak. As it was probably with all elves. "I'm afraid all of us Eldar are a little prejudiced and stiff when it comes to the unknown and new. It is a nature that comes with our age. But no matter how strong you are, you will never be strong enough to resist change. Legolas changed a lot -and may I say, for the better- after his experience with the Fellowship. We all did, of course. It was a time of changes."

Irulan gazed ahead at the little alley that preceded the castle gates, trying to imagine those days. But once more she failed to do so. It was hard to actually believe in a time when Hobbits and dwarves existed and dragons lurked in caves while orcs roamed in forests and magic was as common a thing as electricity today. "What happened?" she said then, not conscious of saying it. 

Haldir shrugged deftly. "Nothing." He turned to look down at her once more. "And that is the problem, Lady Irulan," he added gently. She did not speak but only gazed up, very aware of the awe on her face at seeing an elf from such close distance, but not able to swipe if off her expression. At her silence, he continued: "Time can be bitter and torturous when one is denied the things that make its passing easier on the spirit."

"Like what?" 

Haldir sighed and looked ahead again, the entrance very close now. "Like companionship. Like purpose." A moment passed before he added "Like love."

Irulan swallowed softly and kept her gaze on the ground. "We seem to lack the same things," she said softly. "We mortals, I mean."

"Yes," he said with a mild smile, "but not for centuries, Lady Irulan."

She nodded then, not knowing why she did and no clue what she was thinking. Haldir's presence seemed to be overwhelming in its softness and warmness and as much as she hated the thought, she realized that her adoration of elves had just doubled itself only because of this short and unimportant morning stroll. 

"Is it possible for you to skip the 'lady' part?" she said then, her voice gaining a lighter tone. 

"Ah with pleasure!" he said, smiling in amusement. "I have had enough formality in my life not to miss it again."

"You were Marchwarden in Lothlorien," she said then, her voice betraying the awe of remembering that fact all of a sudden. He smiled and did not look down at her. "In the Golden Woods! With Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn!" Again, Haldir did not answer, approaching the doors that led inside. His was not a rude silence, but a silence of modesty. "Tolkien wrote of her as this.......amazing, fabulous and glamorous being," she said, cocking her head to look up at him. 

"Tolkien's words do no justice to the Lady," he said then, his smile growing broader as his eyes fixed her again. 

"It is hard to imagine such a woman," was her slow reply. 

"And impossible to forget," was his gentle one as he guided her through the doors of the castle.

****

"Good morning, Lord Greenleaf," came her voice and Legolas, momentarily distracted from watching the pair of Haldir and Irulan leave slowly, turned to see Elizabeth standing at a much closer distance. He smiled deftly, the blankness not leaving his face as his eyes inspected her face. Elizabeth was fairly beautiful for a mortal woman. She lacked the glow and feminine aura that elves naturally possessed, but Legolas thought that no lack to the attractiveness of humans. 

"Good morning, Lady Elizabeth," he said gently and watched her swallow softly with excitement. He smiled in return, the sensation of being admired so, washing over him. He was quite used to it and found it a childish and cute thing to observe on women. 

Unsure of how to continue, she looked out into the garden. "This is a wonderful place," she said then, pursing her lips. Legolas sighed softly, feeling a pang of disappointment with the all too well known and meaningless string of conversations showing up in the horizon. Not that he expected anything else, but to discover that no one around him offered an interesting or intriguing topic of argument or a beguiling character that would invoke his curiosity, was still a frustrating discovery at times. With every passing day, it seems, he was forced into more and more trivial conversations and relationship. An ocean that looked so promising, and yet was in fact so shallow and empty. 

He opened his mouth then, ready to reply in a boring and yet most fitting manner to this boring and most fitting statement, when Haldir's laughter erupted in the distance and both of them looked up to the pair that was walking away. Many things happened then. For one thing, Haldir was gentle and smooth - but not an elf that could be described as merry and playful. To hear him laugh so often in one day was a matter of exception. And then Irulan turned around to glance at him and in that fraction of a moment, he felt something that he had not felt for many, many centuries. 

Later that afternoon his mind went back to it, assuring him that it was a normal and understandable sensation, since he was standing there, talking about the beauty of his garden while obviously Haldir and Irulan were talking about far more interesting and entertaining matters. Too feel in envy of such a thing was but only natural. Anyone in his state would have felt the same. Legolas had nodded deftly in agreement with this, his mind clinging to this argument with passion. And yet, even while that was the case, a different part of him was also resisting in the most peculiar fashion, taunting him and saying that he should dive beneath the surface of that ocean and just discover how deep it could be at places. That voice would not stop mocking him as, hours later, the new and unexpected sensation that he had felt at that instant still refused to let go of his psyche. 'Your waters may be shallow, Prince of Mirkwood,' it said with bemusement (and how daring a thing it was for it to call him so!) 'but there are places in this ocean that go so deep, the journey there would take a lifetime alone! The water is warm there, and thick with the unknown. An abyss, a crack in the smooth, known surface of things, where mystery lurks. Where ruins of long lost civilizations sleep in their blue slumber. Where creatures of the strangest nature prowl.'

The thought sparked in his mind into a slow, kindling flame. He would never admit it to be so, but a fear was feeding that fire. Fear of the unexpected. Fear of facing -for the first time in an incredibly long line of years- something unknown. Fear......and excitement. But one must not forget that Legolas was no more the lighthearted, flexible elf that he used to be. He had grown bitter and stiff. He had grown tired and bored. A spark of that nature was nowhere enough to break or even crack his shell. But it was enough to annoy him and set his heart to dislike against the one that had caused it. 

In this case, that someone was Irulan. He sighed with irritation and pushed his shoulders back, clasping his hands behind him. "She came with those damnable dreams!" he said slowly. And alas, it was true! Ever since that woman had arrived in his home, the past seemed to haunt him even more fervently. He did not like to be hunted like that. Not at all. If anything, he was built to be a hunter - not some helpless prey. 

His mind busy with such issues, he finally began his stroll towards the chamber downstairs - a chamber where only the most important and most secretive of meetings were held. It was built in the basement, with no windows and in high isolation. There, some of the Circle members were awaiting him. The official meeting was still several days ahead. But the ones that had arrived early, had decided naturally to come together for a more casual discussion of the matter and a general evaluation of the issue. 

As his silent steps strolled closer to location, the dreams and the woman who had dared to wake him from a seemingly endless slumber, vanished from his mind. 

***

"We too have great doubts about this union," said Michael, his tone of voice softly echoing in the dimly lit room. "I assure you that it is not with our consent."

"She seems naive for a human," sounded another voice then and everyone present turned to look at an elf who was standing afoot by one of the long, rectangular lights that were evenly distributed in the room and were casting a soft, yellow light in its windowless darkness. His fingers glided along as the glow was caught in his reddish brown hair, that hung loosely down to his shoulders in soft waves. 

"Yes. And that makes her....unbalanced, does it not, Master Maneth?" Elizabeth said almost with enthusiasm. 

Maneth did not turn around, his elven profile with the slightly olive tinted skin and the high cheekbones a beauty to observe. Neither did he answer, but instead crossed his arms on his chest and began a lazy stroll around the massive ebony oval table that stood in the middle of the room and that took up most of it. 

"Such a comparison would not be fair," Haldir said, folding his hands on the table and leaning slightly over it as he made eye contact with many sitting sporadically around it. "All humans are naive if you compare them to the Eldar. And yet, it does not mean that they are weaker of spirit."

"What about weaker of heart?" said another elf - this one with short, tousled dark brown hair that matched his slightly slanted dark brown eyes. He carried the natural elven air to him, but from an appearance and looks point of view was almost indistinguishable from a human. 

"Weaker of heart?" was Haldir's confused reply. 

"Yes," continued Saelban then, leaning slightly back in his chair, the yellow glow of the candles shimmering on his black shirt. "Our younger brothers are so easily tempted by worldly things."

"I doubt that Cate will have a greed for worldly things," said a woman called Irene then. When all turned to look at her, she swallowed softly and continued with as much determination as she could muster: "Not only will she have access to these things, but she has eternity to attain as much as she wants - which I doubt she will pursue, in the first place. She is not such a woman."

"I wish I could agree with you," was Michael's dry reply as he, too crossed arms, "But I agree with Saelban. Very few humans have shown resistance to the pull of riches."

"It is not the riches that worry me," Maneth cut in smoothly, his stroll around the table continuing. "Many of our former attempts showed a growing desire to reveal both themselves and us to the world, in time. Fame, it seems, is more worhty for humans than it is for us."

"If so, she could have done so earlier. She has been aware of our presence for over a decade now," said Irene.

"A decade," said Saelban, gently waving his hand in a dismissive gesture, "is not by far enough for a test, my dear Irene." Not his gesture, but his fabulous smile stunned her and she did not reply. 

"Not to mention that pointing fingers is a different story, while a demonstration is a far different one," Michael intervened once more.

"They have asked for time. And we have given them time. For over a decade now -which may not be too long in our terms," was Haldir's comment, "but is a fairly long time for mortals- she has not wavered. Not shown weakness or temptation. Is her effort not worthy of praise?"

"That may be," Legolas said then, and all turned to the elf who said a little apart from everyone in his black attire, his arms crossed on his chest and his posture slightly turned away from them, "but it does not guarantee further valor."

"And yet," broke in Maneth gently, "nothing is guaranteed. Who can see the future?"

"With all due respect, Master Maneth," said Michael with the ghost of a smile, "YOU can. For with your time and experience in this world-" and his gaze wandered around the room, taking in all the Eldar present, "-it is very possible for you to see what the probable outcomes will be."

Maneth smiled and having arrived by him, placed his hand on the shoulder of the seated man. "The key word here is 'probable'. Nothing is set absolutely in life."

"Not to mention," said Michael then, with a more formal tone, "the inflicts this has on the human psyche, which, gentlemen and dear ladies, I am sure I do not need to repeat here."

A silence set in then. "If she is willing to risk her sanity and her life," said Haldir softly, "it is worth a try."

Another silence. Finally Saelban spoke again. "What say you, Lord Legolas?"

Once again all looks turned to the elf, who had not changed his stance and was not looking up to them. They remained waiting for his answer for a while. All present in the room knew that elven conversation was not to be rushed and therefore, none felt impatient. "As always," he said then, "I am in ill favor of such a thing. And I see nothing that would encourage me to change my view in the matter." 

Another silence. Until Maneth's soft voice cut it: "What of Lady Irulan?" It was hard to miss the tenseness traveling around the chamber at the mention of her name. Especially amongst the humans present. The human members had always found it easy and natural to bow to elves and accept them as equals - if not superiors, but the rivalry amongst themselves prevailed, no matter what. The idea of Irulan's heritage and the natural place it gained her in the Circle (which happened to be far above theirs, by the way), made them envious and uneasy. 

"She is obviously very much in favor of it," said Haldir, entwining his fingers before him and there was the hint of a smile on his face. 

"She is Aragorn's heir," said Saelban matter-of-factly. "Her vote counts immensely."

"I offer to challenge that rule-"

"That rule is not for you to challenge," Haldir said coldly and Michael, who had meant to continue, closed his mouth. "Aragorn's representatives always have and always will have prominent rights in this circle."

"We have served this cause for so many years," broke in Elizabeth then, with her usual hasty ways, "and she has served none. We have passed all tests while she has shown no valor-"

"She WILL show valor when the need for it arises," cut in Haldir once more, his voice low but frosty. "They all have. As has Estel."

"Are you saying," began Michael then, playfully, "that she is above other humans?"

"I am saying no such thing," was the cool reply. "But I do not doubt that she has many virtues that are invisible to the eye, until the right time comes for their demonstration."

"Aragorn's line has always made good and right decisions," said Saelban in agreement. "Her status is not to be questioned." All elves -with the exception of Legolas- nodded to that. For them, Irulan's place in the Circle was as natural as a river flowing downhill. Even though she had refused and walked away from it, they would not refuse her if she intended to claim it this or another day.

"What IF she proves to be weak and easy to deter?" said Legolas then and the nodding stopped immediately. A silence set in as none knew the answer to such a thing. For none had ever thought of questioning her valor to begin with. As they had not done with Aragorn's former representatives. And they had always proven to be worthy of such blind trust. 

"Why should we doubt his kin NOW, Legolas?" was Haldir's confused and somewhat tense reply. 

Once more, Legolas did not answer immediately and instead chose to stand up and clasping his hands behind his back, face the rest of the room. He seemed majestic in his black over black outfit, the golden glow of the lamps playing on his long silver hair and on his fair skin. "I never doubted Estel. I would follow him to my own death - even today if he but showed up and asked it of me." A short silence before he continued: "But....she is not Estel." He looked each in the eye, then. "Everything in this world changed," he began and assumed a slow walk around the room as every eye rested on him, for he was a man of great importance. "It has grown weak. And shallow. Humans are diminished to what they were in the Old Days." He gazed at their faces and some looked away, knowing that they could not argue with this truth. "Why should that not hold true for bloodlines, as well?" 

Silence again. To the point when almost the buzz of the dim lamps could be picked up. "The strong blood that has made heroes out of the common man is now diluted and wasted. I do not doubt Aragorn's ancestry. And I do not doubt your tests and evaluations - surely Lady Irulan carries his chemistry along with many of his virtues." He allowed a small gap before he continued: "And yet.....will it prove to suffice, as it has before?"

"Have you reasons for doubt, my friend, and not shared them with us?" Maneth said, seating himself and thereby leaving Legolas as the only standing persona in the chamber. 

"Though I see Aragorn's fire in her," the blonde elf continued, his gaze narrowed now, "I also see much that does not resemble him. She is rash and impatient. Estel was calm and calculating. She is rude and ill mannered. Estel was kind and speculative."

"She listens to her heart," Haldir said then, "As did Aragorn."

The gazes of both elves locked, and in an invisible fashion, so seemed their wills. The rest watched their long, silent duel, not daring to interfere. Legolas smiled then and moved to place his hands on the black table, slightly leaning onto them and looking at the company under his brows. "It is not a matter of prejudice. Or of belittling them. I value life in every shape and form. Humans were precious to me, and always will be. I think we can not argue that for any of us - for if they were not, we could have chosen a wiser path for ourselves and left them to their fate to depart with the rest of our kind." His words were followed with a soft wave of confirming murmurs. "But what is asked of us in this case is not a wise call. I stand firm in this. No matter what our hearts say, we are forced to use other sentiments when it comes to granting immortality to mortals." He gave a pause, sensing that he had already turned the room in his favor. 

"We respect your wisdom, Lord Legolas," said Saelban in an unreadable voice, "Always have and always will." He placed his hands flatly on the table, slightly tilting forward then. "But her vote means much to us. You know that."

Legolas nodded softly, as if expecting this answer. "And therefore the question - what IF she proves to be weak and deterrable, as the majority of her kind? Surely then her vote would seem dubious?"

A silence that spoke of hanging questions set in, then. "Surely it would," said Maneth slowly, trying to read the blonde elf's meaning, but failing. 

Legolas turned to Saelban, then, with upraised brows. The elf nodded. "Surely so. But only then."

When he locked eyes with Haldir, who had not moved and sat still as a statue, Legolas said softly "And you, Haldir? If she were tempted by simple and fleeting sentiments, would you still trust her judgment?"

Haldir looked at him for a long time without moving. And the other elf stared back without blinking. Finally the Lothlorien elf spoke, his voice soft but determined: "If it were to come to what you said, my vote would lie with yours."

Legolas smiled with satisfaction and gazed at the other members -both elf and human- of the Circle. All nodded silently. "Then I shall prove to you all what my heart has painfully come to see. That Estel's blood has run dry and his kin has grown weak."

"How will you do that, son of Thandruil?" Maneth said with amusement, folding his arms on his chest. No one had called Legolas that for over a millennia now. But then...Maneth feared no one and nothing. 

Legolas walked back to his seat, and sat down once more before he spoke: "I will seduce her," he said and a shock ran through the room like electricity. 

"Seduce her?!" said Irene, unable to keep it in. (She was human, after all)

Legolas gave her an amused look and that look sufficed to cause a blush to bloom on the woman's face, who hastily gazed away. It was no miracle that the elf had an incredible effect on every woman he confronted - especially the human ones. Every woman on the Circle was infatuated with him. "Would that not prove my argument?" he said softly, his gaze wandering to Elizabeth who was looking at him agape, and upon realizing that he was looking at her, lowered her eyes and closed her mouth. 

"Will you play with Lady Irulan?" Haldir said increduously. 

"I will not play with her. I will test her," Legolas said to that, coldly. 

"Master Legolas....that seems unfair to me," Maneth said with amusement. "For who, in her right mind, could resist you?!" He laughed melodiously to that as several of the others joined him softly. 

"One who has other priorities in life would not find it hard to resist my offers," mused Legolas then, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

"It is not right to hurt mortals so," growled Haldir, breaking the atmosphere at once. "Since when do we toy with their sentiments and their affections, Legolas?" he seethed. 

Legolas leaned back then, taking in his friend with a lazy glance. "I shall not toy with her affections, Haldir," he said, "worry not. I shall not lie to her." He took another look, then glanced away in disinterest. "I don't need to. All I will do is to offer her the very temptations that all humans should fear. If she is strong in the face of those, she has all my respect." 

"Seems like an idea of praise to me," Michael said then, grinning widely. "If Master Legolas can not stray her from her path, nothing can."

A silence followed as everyone in the room thought about Irulan, Legolas, seduction and the combination of that. "I have faith in her. She will prove you wrong, my Lord," Irene said, though her voice was not as determined as before. 

"And I agree," said Haldir. "You might end up regretting this test," he added somewhat bitter. 

"I, too, think that Estel's kin will be no easy challenge. Even for you, Legolas," said a smiling Saelban. 

"She is a lost case for sure," was Michael's comment. 

"No matter what the outcome, it will be an interesting engagement," mused Maneth. 

And interesting, it would be. 

**


	5. On the Trail of a Great Beast

The game is set. The blades are drawn. It is perhaps, as old as time itself – this duel between man and woman. And certainly will prevail for a long time to come. 

Legolas tapped his finger on his perfect lips. 'How to proceed?' he thought in deep concentration. The art of seduction was not one he converted to too often. For one thing, his usual affairs did not require such skills. Secondly, he was not fond of toying with anyone – least of all, humans, who were far more fragile and sensitive than his own kind. Most of the time, Legolas felt tempted to perceive them as mere children. Thirdly...very seldom did he ever actually have to pursue a woman. Women mostly pursued him. As a matter of fact, now that he thought about it, with the exception of Saiko, a Japanese woman whom he had met in the 18th century and was overly infatuated with for some time, his relationships with mortal women had been, for the most part, short lived and on his behalf, disappointing. 

Nevertheless, Legolas was old and wise. He had been around humans long enough. And like all elves, he was a rather keen observer. He had read and explored almost every aspect of their psyche and their culture. 

Finally, deciding that her attitude and her reactions should set the pace, he dressed in his black turtleneck sweater and loose fitting jeans, pulled on his boots and tied his long hair in a loose ponytail. A walk to her room followed. He knocked on the door, but no sound came. 

His search revealed soon enough that Irulan was in the library. And alone. The elf hesitated for a moment at the threshold, taking in her stance by the bookshelf, slightly leaning on it, a book in her hand, her long hair spilling over her shoulders like a dark river, covering most of her visage. 

Irulan was not an exceptionally beautiful woman in human standards. But he could not deny that there was something different about her. An attractiveness that was perhaps greatly due to the fact that she was not trying to be attractive. 

Men were feeble and impatient. They tended to fall for women who had a feminine air to them. Who had grace and beauty and enchantment. And that was all nice and good. Unless it was at the expense of other qualities. Such as intellect, tolerance, kindness. Such as courage, determination and strength of will. Elves had enough time to discover that, though for short-lived affairs and fleeting infatuations the former kind of woman might be more appealing, in the long run what really mattered was none of those features, but how much of a friend and support the partner is. Attraction was good. But friendship was lasting. Beauty was striking. But sharing was durable. 

And standing there in the soft glow of the day, Legolas became aware that Irulan was one of those women one could share a lifetime with. Not a wild, unforgettable, extraordinary week in some foreign land. But years. Not a romantic, sensual night with a stranger. But decades. Most probably not too many men would ever discover how precious and rare a person she was. They would walk past her, seeing the gorgeous blonde who would mean nothing in a matter of months. They would glance past her, perceiving the sleek brunette who had no humane virtues but a fantastic body. 

Eager to break from his own daze, he cleared his throat and she blinked and turned around to look at him. They locked eyes for a moment, both too far gone and lost in their own thoughts to wake up right away. Then the elf smiled and Irulan raised her eyebrows to that, slightly straightening up. "Good day," he said softly, his eyes locked to hers.

"Good day," she said in return, a little uneasy. 

He took a gentle breath and walked in leisurely, glancing at his surroundings. "How have you been?"

Irulan, now overly surprised, straightened further and watched his approach. "Fine," she said absent-mindedly. Then, as the silence between them continued, she added "And you?"

Legolas smiled, his face cast downward. "I came to apologize," was his reply as he halted at a comfortable distance, locking eyes with her once more. 

"What for?" was her confused and soft question.

He did not answer right away, but inspected her for a moment. "It was not my intention to offend neither you nor your kind."

"Oh," she said and closed the book dismissively. "Do not dwell on it." She bit her lower lip and added "To be honest with you, I don't know which one of us was wrong, anymore."

He smiled broader to that. "Perhaps we were both right?"

"Or both wrong," she said with a wry smile herself. 

Several moments of silence passed. Legolas waited. For what, he did not know. This was not what he had had in mind. In the warm and golden silence of the library, he felt the loss of interest for all that he had planned. All of a sudden it seemed a better idea to stay and to talk. About life. About time. About the past and the future.

"Is that why you came?" Irulan said a little incredulously, and broke his daze. And thankfully that reminded him that he had a job to do. He briefly looked away once more to clear his mind, and when his gaze returned to her, a colder side of him had assumed control. 

"Not entirely," was his smooth reply. "I mean to go to the city for lunch. Perhaps you would like to join me?" The disbelief and shock on her face was evident enough to invoke feelings of superiority and victory in him. 

"Well..." stammered Irulan, not sure how to react and caught quite off-guard at this sudden turn of events, "Well..."

"Please accept," he broke in, knowing that it was always an advantage to act faster, "I know a place that has some of the finest salads in the world." Irulan blinked in confusion and played a little with the book in her grip. To go to lunch with Legolas was...discomforting. Before their rather unkind encounters, it would have been a heavenly dream. But now it was a little suspicious. "Is my appearance that dangerous?" he spoke with a beguiling smile. 

"Dangerous?! No, no," was her hasty reply before she was cut off: 

"I trust that you will accept, then?"

Another silence hung between them. Though this time Irulan was aware that she could not decline any further. That would only make her look ridiculous and afraid. And she was neither. She took a deep breath and placed the book back on the shelf. Giving him one last dubious glance, said: "Why not? It will be a pleasure, Lord Greenleaf."

"Legolas," he corrected gently, then turned on his heels to guide her out of the library and to the garage. "Let us go, then. The ride is almost an hour."

She nodded, still more than a little confused about the happening and began to follow him in silence. Her gaze swept over his back, taking in his expensive and yet casual clothing, his silver hair, tied into a lose pony tail. She had seen many captivating men, yes, but they were incomparable to Legolas. She tried to imagine him in the attire of an elf. With bow and quiver. In his war armor, on a horse, or swinging his blades. It was not her first attempt to do so. No doubt that he must have looked amazing back then, too. 

A sense of frustration came over her. Already she was getting soft! Just because His Grace had spoken a few kind –or rather, neutral- words to her, she was melting! Irulan took a deep breath and looked away, determined not to reach hasty conclusions and be disappointed in the end, once more. 'He is still irritating as Hell!' she told herself stiffly and did not gaze back at him again.

They arrived at the garage and it took some willpower on her behalf not to gape at the dozens of cars and motorcycles distributed in the big space, shining in their newly polished beauty. She did not know much about cars, but one did not need to be an expert to see that these were probably incredibly expensive samples. It did not surprise her. After all, though they were not greedy in such matters, with so much time and skill on their hands most elves naturally ended up being incredibly rich. And they still liked beauty in every fashion and form. They liked serene, elegant and balanced lives. They liked convenient, clean and beautiful surroundings. This, of course, required money. However, unlike humans, they saw money only as a means to an end - the means to offer them such an atmosphere. And they used it graciously for that purpose. 

Legolas, finally having arrived by his black jaguar, opened the door for her. She stopped short of running into it. The courtesy of elves was not a new or surprising thing to her – they were all terribly well mannered. Nevertheless, coming from Legolas, it only served to increase her discomfort. She gave him one last suspicious look, then glided to sit on the cream colored leather seat. The elf smiled despite himself, then quickly erased it from his face and proceeded to walk around and take his own seat. 

He started the engine and set the car into motion, slowly gliding out of the garage into a freshly washed bright autumn day. After several minutes, feeling awkward, Irulan decided to chat a little. The tenseness was ridiculous for people at their age. Not to mention at HIS age. Quickly preventing another string of poisonous comments about him, she said "Nice car," with a tinge disinterest. No doubt that the car itself was very comfortable, but Irulan was very aware that her current comfort had more to do with his skills. Legolas drove very...elvish. Fast but smooth – daring but fluid. It was something that came not only with immense practice, but also with their very nature. 

"It is," was his plain answer. He did not delve into the topic or attempt to proceed to another one, so she observed the passing scenery for a while. "Tell me about yourself," he said suddenly and once again took her by surprise. Legolas gave her a brief and blank gaze, then returned to his driving. 

"You go right for the target, don't you?" she said slowly, with a tinge of amazement. 

"Yes. I am a man of purpose," was his matter-of-fact statement. 

"And what purpose might that be?" Irulan asked, shifting slightly on her seat to see him better. 

"To know more about you." 

Irulan stared at him for a few more moments. Then, annoyed at staring so and being downright baffled, she cleared her throat and looked ahead, again. "I have nothing interesting to tell."

"Is that not for me to decide?"

She took a slow, deep breath and reminded herself of virtues like patience and kindness. Why was it that he rubbed her the wrong way, no matter how rational his words? "I am certain that your men can prepare a folder about my life," she said dryly. 

Legolas, both amazed and frustrated at having such a difficult time with a woman, when all his life they had been incredibly easy, gave her a long gaze. "I prefer YOU to tell me."

"Oh so you PREFER," said Irulan with mock surprise, rolling the word on her tongue. Then, realizing that she was acting too childish for her own standards, swallowed softly and added "What do you wish to know?"

He shrugged gracefully, his eyes fixed on the road. "Where do you live?"

"Right now, New York."

He wrinkled his nose and she gave him a wide-eyed look. "New York is an amazing city!" she said a little defensive. "I love it there."

"I do not recall saying anything in ill favor of it."

"Well you...you looked like you would."

He turned and fixed her with that irritating blank look. "Too crowded for my taste," was his late comment. "Work?"

The woman almost shook her head at his way of conversation that was more like questioning than a dialogue. "I write for a newspaper." That kind of question deserved that kind of answer! 

And so it went, with Legolas asking and prodding in that arrogant, distant manner of his and Irulan replying curtly and dryly, trying her best to keep the conversation at a friendly platform. They had not started off too well, but it was foolish to insist on the enmity. Perhaps it was simply beyond him to be kinder or softer. Perhaps this was all that he could muster, all that was left in the name of sweetness in him. She would not expect or ask for further. After all, if she wanted to be accepted for the person that she was, he had the same right, too. 

The man, on the other hand, was experiencing immense pleasure at prodding her so. Not only did he like the hunt, but he also liked her obvious struggle to construct a respectful and yet comfortable interaction with him. She was rather easy to read – her emotions were swiftly displayed on her tone and her stance and it was not a great challenge to interpret them. He also found her very responsive – noting the way she immediately seemed to cool in demeanor at a slightly private question, or the way she would unconsciously stiffen at a too daring remark. A slight anger would pass through her at these times, perhaps not visible to any other and less observant eye. Although he felt annoyed by the fact, he could not deny that she was a rather attractive woman when anger was emanating from her. 

Legolas' experience with women is a matter too long to be recited here. But, if a summary is necessary to shed a little more light on his relationship with Irulan, we can say that in his first centuries, he had avoided mortal women as if avoiding a plague. He had been more elf then, and a tentative and sensitive side of him had prevented him from seeking a partner of the human kind. They were interesting to him. Different. And therefore, very attractive. But also swift and harsh.

After a prolonged term of loneliness and seldom, short-lived affairs with elven females –a few centuries, to be exact- having changed in nature and having grown less expectant of an affair, he had given the mortal kind a place in his heart. 

And that had been a mistake. 

For not only did it have an effect of cold splash of water on the face for his fine and rather naive psyche, but it was also a devastating realization of why mortals and immortals were not meant to be. He had found excitement and a childish ignorance in them. He had found passion and naivety. Though they failed to speak to his heart or his mind, they spoke to his body and his spirit. And that was good. For a while. Until age set in and he was forced to part from them, one by one, before they would discover his true identity. And the pain of those partings seemed too high a price to pay. 

More centuries passed. Legolas grew bitter and tired. The world around him changed into a ruthless and shallow place. Gone was the romance of his times or of the times that followed it. Relationships became a matter of pleasure only. Minds rarely dueled. Hearts never clashed. Spirits hardly touched. He came to accept that – though it took him long enough to do so. And after that acceptance, gone was the pain. No more conscience. No more high hopes of shared love and lifetimes. No more expectation of a full union. He came to terms with the fact that no woman would touch his heart to the fullest. That at his age and at this point, he was beyond the reach of any mortal woman. And that the only thing left to share with them was the physical pleasure and the warmth of a close body. True, some challenged his mind and that was very tempting. But only rarely did they speak to his heart. Some challenged his heart, but failed to fuel his mind. Some impressed him for this or that reason, but proved to be shallow in many other things upon closer inspection. Some just stroke him like lightning with their charm and beauty, but had many hidden ugly flaws that turned off his appetite. 

In short, Legolas had, no doubt in such a long time, gained quite a bit of experience with the female gender and courted them for various reasons uncountable times. But they had failed to become an important part of his life - promising much, but nothing really essential. He admired, respected and loved women. But, to put it plain and short, he had never really fallen in love with a woman. Infatuated? Yes. Grown to like desperately? Definitely. Felt longing, passion, need? Most certainly. But not love. 

And sitting here in his car, talking with Irulan, he had earnestly no such illusions about him and her. For he had lost belief and hope in love. Or rather, that he, himself would be subject to it. What he was aware, though, was the pull and attraction he was feeling for her. And the desire of the hunt that was blooming in him. 

For in all his years on this earth –which were many- never had a woman disliked him this much. Or had dared to slap her dislike to his face like this. Legolas was well aware of his looks, his wealth, his status, along with his attractiveness, his aura and his charm. To this day, they had only been to his favor. 

Not with Irulan. For none of those seemed to have the slightest effect on her. Mostly women, impressed by him to a degree of awe and adoration, only cowered at his arrogance or tried their best to gain his liking. Not Irulan. She seemed very disinterested in his like or dislike of her. 

"Lover?" he said suddenly, as the first settlements closer to the city began to come into view. 

Irulan pursed her lips and tried to look as blank as possible. There was no way on earth she was telling this elf that she had no boyfriend! "Yes," she said matter-of-factly. And turning to look at him, added "David. He is an incredible man. All that I would expect, and more. He loves me very much and well, I love him more! We are soon be betrothed and…" Realizing that, in an attempt to lie, she had over-done the explanation, she broke off and fixed her gaze ahead, once more. 

Legolas smiled deftly. He was only as clever and as well-observing as any elf could be and knew immediately that for her to make so much explanation could only mean that things were not going too well between her and this David. "Really?" was his smooth reply, a deliberate tinge of disbelief in it. Irulan gave him a glare. "You have stayed with us for two days now…," he continued, shifting gears and slowing down as they entered the wider city streets, "…and yet I do not recall anyone calling and asking for you." When she just stared back with awe, he continued leisurely: "I would certainly call my soon-to-be-betrothed several times a day."

It took all her willpower to keep her mouth from dropping open. Though his servants picked up the phone calls, it was very probable and easy for Legolas to know or to find out who was called by whom. "We talk on my cell phone," she said tersely. 

He have her bag a pointed look and Irulan just wanted to strangle him. "Your batteries ran out, I presume."

'What an unbelievable, damnable, horrible elf is THIS?!' she thought, feeling both fury and yet fear at his cunningness. Thankfully her façade reflected none of that and her tone was cool to the ear. "He is busy right now. Today, I mean. He is...in a...a meeting."

"Oh," was his soft reply, as he turned to look out the window on his right and upon seeing the deft smile forming on his lips, the temptation to strangle him only grew stronger. 

They did not speak again until they arrived at their destination. Legolas delivered the keys to an eager valet while Irulan shifted on her feet with discomfort, looking up to the evidently expensive restaurant. The elf halted at the door for her to enter first and then followed and barely moments later they were greeted with enthusiasm by the staff who knew him well. His 'usual' table was ready for him in moments and they were escorted to a beautiful garden with the tables placed rather apart to give the customers privacy. Arriving at a table under a willow tree, they were seated and the waiters left immediately, by the looks of it, already knowing what to prepare. 

Irulan, amazed to find such a place in the middle of a rather crowded and metropolitan city, looked around for a while. "It is beautiful indeed," she said with awe, turning to find Legolas inspecting her with a penetrating gaze. 

"I am glad that you liked it," was his soft reply, accompanied by the ghost of a smile. A little nervous about the intensity of his look, she began to play with her wine glass. The elf observed her for a while. In his mind, he was encircling his prey with silent steps. He remained a good distance away from it. Smelling it. Listening to it. Observing it. Perhaps it was time to nudge it a little. To see how and to what degree it would react. 

Though it was a daring move, he decided that it was not too early to take another step. In fact, he was more the cautious type, and given the chance, would prolong the seduction – not just to secure victory, but also to enjoy the pleasure of it. But unfortunately in this case, he had only several days before the meeting, and he needed to use the time wisely to reach his objective.

Irulan was so engulfed in her own thoughts, she didn't even flinch at the touch of his finger on her hand that was lying on the table between them. She couldn't find the strength to look up immediately, her eyes glued to the lazy circle it was drawing on the back of her hand. The move was so unexpected that she failed to snatch it back, and only several moments later managed to raise her eyes. Her gaze collided with his and he fixed it, an amused determination on his handsome features. 

A moment passed. Then another. His finger was still drawing that damn circle on her hand and Irulan could swear that it was a spell. In response she only swallowed softly and unable to move, barely breathed. "Tell me about David," was his soft question. 

"What about him?" she whispered, an incredible confusion settling down on her mind like a thick fog. Why was he acting so strange? So…intimate? Out of nowhere, too! 

He smiled an incredible smile, twinkles in his eyes. "Somehow, Lady Irulan, he does not strike me as your type," he said idly. 

"My type?" was her astonished reply. He leaned further on the table, his eyes locked to hers as his fingers began a soft, lazy tracing of her own. If she didn't know better, she would say that he was trying to seduce her. But for HIM to act like this...and towards HER...could only be a sign of…mocking, perhaps? Nevertheless, she failed to tear her gaze away when he decided to continue. "Your type," he said with a low voice, and she swallowed at the tone of it, "would be...someone with presence. And character." His smile grew wider as Irulan tilted back to keep a distance that would allow her to breathe. "A strong man. Someone you can respect. Someone you can depend on."

"Well..." she said after too long a silence, congratulating herself on the fact that she did not stammer, "David IS like that. But he is also kind and gentle. Which makes him...perfect." With that, she finally managed to slowly draw her hand back and fold it with the other one on her lap. 

Legolas looked at her for a moment, no indication of any discomfort on his behalf. "Perfect, is he?" He leaned back on his chair, his clear blue gaze still fixed on her. "But...he let you come out here alone. Even though it is your first trip. Even though you would be with strangers. And...he did not call."

"He DID call," she said, angry at herself for giving him an explanation of this sort. "And I have no intention to tell him that I am coming to a meeting like THIS!"

"Well, if you can not trust to tell him," was the reply, accompanied by a sly smile, "he can not be that perfect, now, can he?" She gave him a hard stare and he smiled back in amusement, satisfied with her lack of response. "He can not give you what you need," he added with a low tone, never ceasing his observation of her, "But *I* can." 

Irulan looked at him for a long time, her expression dampening and gaining a blankness with each passing moment. The anger that seemed to have sparked at his words slowly died before his eyes, giving way to a frosty composure. "Let me tell you one thing, Lord Legolas," she said then, her voice low and a little shaky. If anything, his smile only grew broader at her words. She was intimidated! How fragile humans were underneath their thick shell! "I have no intentions of intimacy with you!" She slightly pushed her chin up and clenching her jaw, waited for his response. Which he prolonged, just to increase her intimidation. 

"You have no intentions," he murmured at last. Then swiftly leaned forward to conclude: "Are you afraid?"

"More like...rational. And sane. And mature," she snorted. 

"And I am none of those?"

A hard look landed on him. And a part of him felt simply mesmerized by it. By her refusal. Her courage. "I do not care what you are," she seethed. "I have no interest in you."

"Is that so?" the man said slowly, taking in her features. "Perhaps I can change your mind?"

"How can you even...suggest such a thing when I told you that I have someone in my life?!"

"I am not naive, Irulan," he said then, not aware that he had used her first name only. "Far from it. Too many seasons I spent in the company of your kind. I know when one is in love. Or when one is bonded. Or when one's heart is under claim. You are none of those."

Her mouth fell open. "You...you..." she stammered, her eyes fixed on his incredibly handsome face that had assumed one of those blank expressions again. "All these years...and you learned NOTHING!"

"Tell me what it is you desire," he continued, no trace of offense in his voice. "What is it that you want? I am certain that I can give it."

"W-what?" was her question, her stupefied state evident in it. 

He leaned towards her again and she tilted back, though a considerably big table stood between them. "Passion?" He said, narrowing his eyes and looking at her more intensely – if such a thing was possible. "Peace of mind? Respect?" He smiled again and if he was attractive without it, with a smile he was divine. "Do you want to be adored, Irulan? Do you want to be flattered? Spoiled? Taken care of? Do you want to be excited and surprised?" A moment of silence set in as she stared back in disbelief. "I can do all that. More and better than any Man. And seldom do I offer it to anyone. Yet, all you have to do, is ask."

Legolas waited in patience with the hunting skills no mortal man would ever manage to accumulate. He encircled his prey, moving closer yet, never taking his eyes off her. Would she take the bait? Most certainly she would. They all did. 

It was the shock of the century when Irulan suddenly rose so fast that her chair tipped and fell over behind her. Her eyes spoke of dark, murderous fury. She breathed heavily, a slight tremble traveling through her figure as the elf watched her with silent amazement. 

"What I want, you are incapable of giving!" she blistered after a long moment of staring during which her eyes had bored holes into him. Actually she wanted to say more. Much more. But shocked beyond her wits and shaking with both fury and alarm, unfortunately that was all she managed to choke out. They locked eyes for what seemed like eternity as she saw something fluttering in his eyes. Though she was in no state to read it. And then, by some divine miracle, she managed to turn around and leave, barely avoiding a collision with the waiter, who was bringing in the salad dishes. 

The elf sat there for a long time, unaware of the food or the surroundings. Which was a very unusual thing for him. In his mind, the conversation played over and over again and his sharp intellect disintegrated it, pieced it together, plastered it, then broke it apart again. An inexplicable and almost childish enthusiasm and excitement was tormenting his heart and if not for his automatic cool control, he would no doubt be carried away by its force. 

None of us can understand his state completely. For none of us have lived thousands of years. Long enough to explore every miniscule aspect of the meaning of boredom. Long enough to see the common base coating underneath all the colors. Long enough to feel frustration of loneliness giving in to anger, then to the loss of faith, then anger again, and later to redemption, only to be replaced with frustration once more. It was not love he was feeling. Nowhere near that. Not yet, anyway. He was swept away with the excitement of encountering something new. And for someone with his age, that is A LOT. 

Someone, for the first time ever, had refused him! Absolutely and without a single doubt. She had even walked away from him! Unconsciously his look glided to the chair that had been picked up by the waiter. He had dangled the bait and the prey had just snorted and dashed away into the woods. 

It was pure bliss. A divine gift. It was simply fantastic. For the sole reason that it was completely unexpected. 

He looked into the garden again as a breeze came up and ruffled the tree branches above him. Today was a chilly autumn day and no one else was in the garden. He inhaled the vibrant and humid air, closing his eyes. If he but tried hard enough, he could imagine himself back in Mirkwood. On some solitary hunting trip. If he but concentrated hard enough, he could feel the cool air, the soft humidity of the denser parts of the forest. He could smell the fresh earth and feel its softness underneath his fingers as he gently touched the track of his prey, his hand gliding over the imprint with a tender caress. 

He opened his eyes again, pushing away the memory. That damnable longing again! Shadows of the past seemed to be Irulan's cloak, fluttering in a dark mass around her wherever she went. It was like a perfume she seemed to be very fond of wearing. No matter how real, Mirkwood was lost to him now. For all eternity. One would think that at his age, it would be easier to say goodbye! 'Alas, it is as hard as the very first day!' he thought bitterly. Against all his control, the image of the White Ship floating away in the mist reached out to him and Legolas froze in silent fear of its continuance. Thankfully not today. Today it vanished as swiftly as it came, like an unwelcome guest and he dared a breath of relief. 

A moment later he motioned the waiter to bring in the check. He had not touched his food or his wine, and he was in no state to eat. His stomach was too alert to digest food. There was a hunt to attend to and he had no intentions of returning home empty-handed. 

Meanwhile a fuming Irulan walked and walked and stomped and walked again in the city streets, not seeing anything around her. She, too, was going through intense emotions, but far different ones than Legolas was. 'How DARE he?!' she thought, her stride unconsciously becoming larger. 'Who the hell does he think he is?!' Alright, so he was Legolas. THE elf. The legend. And that was a lot. But still! 'And who does he think *I* am? How on earth can he feel the liberty to make such a move on me?! Did I encourage him in any fashion? NO! I did nothing but offend him and dislike him. And...and...LOOK at the guy! Some nerve he has!'

She walked and walked, and effectively lost her way. Then found it again, and lost it once more. Finally she called a car rental company and they found her, and she drove back with them to fill in a rental form. Upon discovering that she was staying as a guest of Heath Greenleaf, they were very impressed and asked several questions of him and her. But Irulan only glared coldly, then grabbed the map and her car keys and left the premises as fast as she could. 

On her way back to the castle, she suddenly slowed the car down and pulled over. Several moments passed as she did not turn off the ignition, looking out the windshield into the green pasture. 'What now?' she thought, biting her lower lip. Obviously she would have to return to the castle. And why the heck not? HE was the one who should be embarrassed, not herself! She pushed up her chin in defiance. 'He came onto me. I refused. So...I am perfectly fine.' As a matter of fact, most probably the elf would be so ashamed of her refusal that he would end up shoving this matter under the carpet and pretend it never happened. 

A smile crawled up her lips at that realization. Yes, definitely! Legolas the Great could certainly not afford such a failure! His Mighty Majesty would, no doubt, act like nothing happened. He would also fear any revelations on her behalf. Which was good, because that would give her an advantage over him. Yes! Every time he even dared to look funny at her, she would just raise her eyebrows in a meaningful fashion and he would get the message. The message being "Stop right now or I'll tell everyone about your pathetic adventure!"

In a way, she should be glad it happened. Not only did it open her eyes to the true nature of this supposedly legendary elf, but it also gave her power over him. And that was always a good thing. 

Slowly she put the car into motion again and began her ride towards the castle. Along the way she began to hum a cheerful melody, her spirits already changing for the better. Irulan was a woman of the times. She had an amazing amount of flexibility which allowed her to bounce back from the hardest surfaces. The impact was heavy, yes, but as soon as the contact was lost, the pain would go down drastically and the healing was always swifter with each time. 

Though in this case, she was VERY mistaken in her analysis. 


	6. When Loss is Victory and Gain is Defeat

Thank you! All of you! Never have I thought that I would get such good reviews – most of which are far more graceful than my own work. It would be an understatement to say that they motivate me. Especially since this story is so different and rather freestyle. Therefore, for others to enjoy and praise it is even more important to me. I am glad that there are so many of us, willing to try new and unusual things. 

The chapter before was not the last chapter, as you might have guessed. Of course not! For at this rate, this fic might actually become a novel. And let this be a warning for those who are not fond of long stories – this work is none for them. I will try to update as soon as possible and yes, the threats and urges and shoving DOES indeed work. Though we still have to work and live. 

I hope to write my most wonderful reviewers personal replies and will do that as soon as possible. Until then, this chapter is dedicated to Missy, who forced me to write the story in the first place and was unusually kind in her support. 

As are all of you. 

When she returned to the castle and a servant strode out to park the car in the guest quarter of the parking place, she asked if Mr. Greenleaf had returned and to her demise, he had. Reminding herself that she was at an advantage now and that she would probably never have to go through another private session with him again, she nodded stiffly and gave him the keys, walking up the steps to the entrance. She walked in, her boots echoing in the hall, walked through several rooms, all empty. It was the earlier hours of the day and no doubt that everyone was having their private time or had already come together for a late lunch or afternoon tea. Thinking where possibly Anne or Haldir could be, she walked in another room and almost jumped when she heard Legolas speak behind her. 

"You are late," he said and Irulan halted instantly, in realization of her own stiffness but caught too off-guard to fix that at the moment. "I was worried that something had befallen you."

First off, he was not supposed to be here. Secondly, he was not supposed to talk to her at all - he was supposed to avoid her, damn it! And third, was that actually amusement in his voice? She turned around slowly and saw him leaning on one of the many bookshelves in the room in a leisure fashion, his arms crossed on his chest, the black turtleneck sweater revealing a well built but lithe body. As much as it scared her to do so, she locked eyes with him and yes, Legolas was indeed smiling, his blue gaze fixed on her. 

She decided not to answer. She would turn around and leave to her room. Why, host or not, she still owed this man nothing. And certainly he had no right to push her limits like this! But before she could move, Legolas gracefully bounced away from the wall, and began a slow walk towards her. "You did not eat your salad," he said absent-mindedly and Irulan stepped back a little to keep a certain distance between them. He stopped and clasped his hands behind his back, his smile never faltering. "You must be hungry."

"I am not, thank you," she said curtly. He took a step towards her and feeling silly, and yet afraid by his mere presence (not to mention, his boldness), she took one back. "What do you want?" she croaked finally. 

Legolas looked at her for a long moment. "You," he said simply and Irulan could have sworn that her knees went weak. Why, she had no idea. She hated this man. More with every moment. And yet, he had an incredible effect on her. No wonder, actually, since he probably had that effect on every woman. 

Her eyes widened on their own accord. "W-what?! Is this some sort of game?!"

He smiled and began to encircle her. Which was an odd thing to do and immediately Irulan felt herself trapped. And it was amazing to her that a mere man (alright, so he was an elf. But still!) could make her feel so intimidated just by his attitude and his boldness. She had been perfectly able to deal with rude, dangerous and crazy people. She lived in New York, for Heaven's sake! And yet, that mattered very little at the moment as this.....this.....creature made her feel like a little mouse encircled by a tiger. "Isn't everything?" he said then suddenly as she had to use all her willpower not to turn with him, for that would only show her fear further. Though at this point she was absolutely sure that he could probably SMELL it. 

"Then it is one you can not win," she said, amazed that she had managed to say anything at all with her heart thumping like that. 

"Valiant words," he said and then right below her ear a whisper "for someone so afraid."

She turned to look at him, startled by the closeness of that whisper, but already he had resumed his perimeter, walking back to her vision. "There is a difference between fear and irritation that you yet have to learn, Master Greenleaf," Irulan said levelly, locking eyes with him again. 

"Are you willing to teach me?" he said playfully. 

"I have better things to do with my time," she snapped. Then a moment later: "Stop walking, you make me dizzy!" He did stop indeed and turned to face her, his expression not showing any discouragement at all. 

They looked at each other for a moment. Then she drew in a shaky breath. "Now," she said and threw back a strand of hair that had fallen on her face, "for the very last time.......I am not interested. In anything that you have, can and will offer. Anything!" She gazed at him to see if her words sank in, but could not read his expression. "I will......forget this incident between us. For _your_ sake, since I'm sure that it is not a nice image for someone like you." That only gained her a raised eyebrow and Irulan ignored it. "Whatever you are so desperately in need of, I'm sure that there are many women who can offer it to you. So.....I don't know about you, Master Greenleaf, but I am too old to play games."

"As I am too old to lose them," he cut in, then and Irulan's very well-made speech proved to have no effect at all on this stubborn goat of an elf. She stood staring back, agape, as he inspected her features with a lazy glance. 

"Your fear is needless," he said, for the first time looking away, at the books on the shelves, "no harm will come to you. In any fashion." He looked back at her then, another smile on his face. "You will be more than glad that you agreed. I promise," he said suggestively and took another step towards her. Shocked as she was, she took one back. 

"What part of 'no' don't you understand?!" she said then and it came out a trifle too loud. 

"Oh I understand your answer very well. It is _you_ who does not understand my offer."

She blinked, her heart rate refusing to slow down and making her literally dizzy. "Which is exactly what?" she said, confusion and disbelief heavy in her tone. 

Another long moment of staring. "Anything," whispered Legolas then and just the way he said it, made the hair on her neck stand up. "Everything," he added, without blinking. 

Irulan, who had been afraid to look away till then, decided that his eyes were too confusing and cast down her gaze in an attempt to pull her wits together. A long moment passed. "What _exactly is it that you want from me?" she said, now feeling more angry than nervous. Which was good. _

Legolas smiled inwardly. So there was a limit to her strength, after all. And what a pity that it had taken him only this long to find it. At his victory he felt both pride and yet disappointment. It would have proved more fun to keep the pursuit. But.....even to have come this far had been refreshing to say the least. He put a frown on his face and shrugged deftly. "All that you can offer."

"And what does that mean?" Irulan seethed, looking up to him. 

The fury in her eyes was downright beautiful and she was so angry by the looks of it, she did not even step back when he approached her and stood nose to nose with her. "That you will give yourself to me in any fashion I desire," he said boldly. Never had he acted to a woman like this. And it was exciting to play such a role. The trap had worked. His prey was caged. Hail, Legolas the victorious!

Irulan just stared back in shock. She did not know what was worse - the fact that she had been asked of such a lowly thing? The fact that it was THE Legolas asking for it? The fact that she could try but would never be fast enough to slap him? Or rather the fact that a part of her felt more excited than furious about it? He did not look away and neither did she, thinking that even New York was no match for the company of such a man and that she had walked in here completely unprepared for a thing like this. 

He smiled a victorious smile, raising his right hand and slowly gliding it through her hair as he never looked away, and she simply could not. "I take your silence as a yes," he whispered as his fingers played with the ends of her hair. "Now.......where would you like to have dinner?" he said gently. Irulan tried to remain focused, but at the moment, in her stupefied state, his words meant nothing. "Cairo?" he whispered, his fingers finding her shoulder and beginning a lazy stroll down her arm. "I know a fabulous place in Madrid. Or perhaps Athens? The sunset looks amazing there."

It was then that she finally woke up. To realize that this was no nightmare. No....this was actually happening. This elf before her -nothing like the Legolas she had imagined would be- was actually trying to seduce her! 'And succeeding, too,' a part of her said but Irulan mightily slammed shut the door of the chamber that led to that part of her mind. 

She stepped away so abruptly, Legolas, who had been certain of his victory just moments ago, merely blinked at that unexpected reaction. And when he locked eyes with her then, he knew with certainty that she was of Aragorn's blood. Even if he had not known before, he would have discovered it beyond doubts, at that very moment. Such fire and such flame was a rare thing amongst mortals. 

The second surprise of the day landed on his face then and alas, it felt like nothing had felt before. All he could do was to stand and watch in amazement how a mortal woman, so small in figure and so fragile in nature, seemed to swell up before his eyes to become something that filled the entire room with her essence and how her presence fanned out like a giant tidal wave, covering whole continents with silence and darkness. Once, ages upon ages ago, he had felt a similar awe in the presence of Galadriel, the Lady of Light. Only that had been understandable - for she had been an elf of terrible power and beauty. Irulan was _nothing_ like her, and yet there was something so alike in the sensations that surged through him now, his mind could not keep itself from silly comparisons. 

"Twice you touched me today without my consent," she said, her voice low and trembling, her eyes almost black. "You will regret the third time, Greenleaf!" she finished with a hiss. 

And once again he watched in fascination how she gave him a long, daring look that taunted him to even TRY to say something and how he felt a ridiculous fear, a part of him simply stepping back at that challenge. Then she walked towards him, and a moment later, by him and away. 

Legolas stood frozen, listening to the retreat to her footsteps, the world that he knew dying a slow, anguished death as another and unknown one was being born.

****

"Pardon me?"

"I said," seethed Irulan, trembling with rage, "he made a move on me. TWICE!"

Anne, other than flinching at the loudness of the last word, did not move at all and kept looking at her with something that would probably be the elven blankness on a human face. She looked for quite a long time and Irulan stared back, her hands rolled into fists, shaking softly. 

"What kind of move?" Anne said finally, as soft as possible. 

"W-what kind of........WHAT KIND OF MOVE?!"

"Irulan, stop shouting like a mad woman."

The blonde woman watched in fascination as Irulan kicked the bed several times, then, swirled around and sat on the edge of it, her back turned to the present company, her hands clawing the sheet. She rolled her eyes and taking a deep breath, tried to sound as soft and reasonable as she could: "Come on, Irulan, you have to tell me. How can I understand if you don't?" Upon receiving no answer, she glided on the bed to sit beside her friend, who remained stiffly gazing ahead. "Come on," she said again, daring to touch her shoulder, "tell me. What happened?"

Irulan did not answer for several moments, breathing heavily. She had always been a little too responsive, yes, but at the moment, her temper seemed to be more than a mere feeling. The force of it invaded her mind, shaking her wits and squeezing her heart as she cowered at its might. But even more disturbing than the battle raging in her, was the strange question as to _why_ she felt so much anger in the first place. Certainly what happened was not a joyful matter. But, on the other hand, it was also not worthy of such a reaction. Wary of what the answer to that question might be, she darted away from it mentally and taking a deep breath, tried to speak with a firmer voice: "That......that......._creature_ hit on me, Anne! He dared to!"

Anne, not less confused than she had been a minute ago, tried very hard not to say or do anything that would make her expload. "Alright. So you say. Maybe you are wrong, Irulan?"

Irulan moaned and laid her palm on her face. "I am NOT wrong! He did not hint, Anne," she mumbled between her fingers, still wrestling with her fury, "He made it quite clear."

The blonde woman thought about that for a moment. Most certainly Legolas had been rather obvious in his attempts, because if this woman was incapable of one thing, it was to pick up hints. As amazing as it sounded, Anne knew with certainty that unless her friend was told something right in the face, she never got the message. Hints and clues and suggestions were simply beyond Irulan, whose mind was cultured, but also strangely too naive to make sly and cunning connections or to pick up underlying meanings. "Alright," she said finally, trying to understand this rather unexpected turn of events, "alright. So he made a move at you. Now........pardon my comment but.......it's not the most infuriating thing to happen, Irulan."

When her friend removed her hand to reveal two coals, burning with anger, she hastily continued: "I mean many people......uh.......asked you out, did they not? Some even proposed you! I mean......come on......since when is such an offer so disgusting that it makes you tremble?"

And that was exactly the question she had been avoiding! So Irulan took a ragged breath and tore her gaze away, remaining silent. 

"Did he insult you?" Anne said finally, gently embracing her shoulders. She waited patiently as Irulan's brow furrowed slightly and as –by the looks of it- she rolled that question in her mind over and over again. 

"Well......" she began finally, not really knowing what to say, "well......not really." For the strangest reason, a discomfort settled on her spirit. 

Anne nodded gently. "Alright. So he did not insult you. Did he belittle you.....you know.......look down at you.......in any manner?"

Another silence. Then a shake of the head as Irulan's frown deepened ever so slightly.

Anne sighed softly with relief at the improvement she was making. "Good. Has he used offensive words, perhaps? Did he say something terrible?"

"Terrible?" Irulan said in confusion. "I......don't think so." That discomfort grew immensely and she hastily added: "But the whole offer was terrible! How can he even consider-"

"So he was not offending in any manner," continued Anne smoothly. "What exactly did he want? Sex?"

"What?!" snapped Irulan in horror and turned to look at the raised eyebrows of her friend that spoke of doubt of such a thing. Indeed – elves were maybe bitter and aloof and distant, but none shared such ugly aspects with their human brothers. No matter how different in personality, they still had some things in common – class, dignity and manners amongst them. It was unthinkable for any of them making such a rude move – no matter what the motive. They were not slaves to physical pleasures and though more passionate than humans, would not make an act of physical bonding cheap by words or action. "No," she said slowly, after a long moment. "No." Frustrated at where this was going, she continued: "But he suggested it!"

"Did he now?" said Anne and Irulan almost moaned at her tone that had changed from soft and understanding to dry and cool. 

"He did! He said I have to........" she shut her mouth suddenly, finding the words too.......embarrassing to utter. 

"You have to what, Irulan?" prodded the other woman, now crossing her arms on her chest. 

"I have to........give.....I have to give myself to him in any fashion he desires!" she spat finally, another, but weaker wave of fury boiling up in her at the recollection of that phrase. "What would you call THAT?!" With that, Irulan locked eyes again, pursing her lips. 

The blonde woman just looked back blankly for a moment. Then did that irritating thing again – meaning, tilted slightly back, crossed her legs and raised an eyebrow. Irulan almost moaned at what was about to come. "And what," was the cool reply, "does that exactly mean, Irulan?"

"You tell me!" Irulan shot back. 

"Oh I will," Anne continued dryly. "Though it probably _does_ include intimacy, *I* at least can also imagine what else 'any fashion' could include." Not surprised that Irulan muttered an inaudible curse and stiffly turned to look away, she went on: "In relationships, people also happen to talk, Irulan. And share. And travel together, have dinner, exchange opinions, encourage each other, be supportive and helpful and….."

"Aw come on!" Irulan moaned finally. But against all odds, her discomfort just kept growing. 

"......all of which, by the way, are rather natural, to say the least," she continued, seemingly unaffected by the interruption. 

"Would you also grant me your _wise_ opinion why _Lord Legolas would want such a relationship with me in the first place, Miss Sherlock?!" _

"That, Irulan," was the cheeky reply, "is beyond me. Since you are being so......childish, and rude, and downright judgmental..."

"Now wait a minute!"

"The point is, he may not have put it as romantically as you wish he did, but I see nothing wrong with his attempt."

"Nothing WRONG?!" Irulan shouted in horror and sprang to her feet, walking away from the bed. "How can you say that?"

"Ah grow up!" said Anne dismissively. 

"I told him about David, God damn it!"

Anne blinked in confusion as Irulan bit her tongue and a short silence issued between them. "David? Who the heck is David?"

"Someone," the other woman said, waving her arm dismissively, "that is not the point. What matters is-"

"Irulan," cut in Anne smoothly, "who-is-David?"

"My boyfriend," was the defensive reply. 

"Really?" said Anne in amusement, the corners of her lips twisting slightly. "How interesting." She inspected her friend who was standing rooted and looking downright annoyed. "Why, I wonder, did you have to make up something like that?"

"What matters is," seethed Irulan, locking eyes with her, "he had the nerve to...... 'ask me out' -as you so nicely put it- even though I told him that I was in love and soon to be betrothed!"

"Soon to be betrothed too!" grinned Anne. "Were you going to tell me the day before the ceremony, Irulan?"

"Anne....." Irulan said with evident threat.

"He obviously thought that you were worthy of a better man," Anne cut in with bemusement. 

"Exactly! I mean........no. Yes, but........" Irulan blinked with confusion, "How did you........." Finally she groaned at Anne's obvious delight and muttered "I swear you think EXACTLY like him!" with a tinge of disgust. 

The other woman laughed then, shaking her head. "If you ask me," she said in between chuckles, "Legolas was being _far from offensive. More like.......amazing!" Her laughter continued, despite the poisonous glare she received in response. _

"Oh stop it! He made it sound like some business proposal!" Irulan spat finally, more than annoyed at the turn of the conversation. This was not funny, damn it!

"He did?" beamed Anne. "What did he offer in return?"

"Anything!" sighed Irulan with mock girlishness, throwing up her hands. "Everything!"

It took her a while to realize that Anne's laughter had died. When she turned to look, the blonde woman had a far different expression on her face. And Irulan did not like it. At all. "He really said that?" was the soft and amazed question. 

Irulan moaned once again in frustration and walked to the window, turning her back to her company. "It's not like he meant it!" she mumbled, irritated to say the least. "I'm sure that he was just mocking me."

"Since when do elves mock, Irulan?" 

"Since about half an hour ago!"

Her friend did not reply right away. When she did, her voice was soft again. "You know that they do not. Especially someone like Legolas." Another gap. "Why would he do that? Why would he feel the need for something like that?"

"I don't know," whined Irulan finally, shifting with discomfort. "I don't know. But.......it simply does not make sense!"

"Even if, Irulan........this does not explain _your reaction to it. Why on earth did you take it so.......hectic?"_

A long silence emerged once again as Irulan darted away, ducked, dodged, but found herself backed into a corner she could not step away from. "I don't know," she whispered once again, her discomfort growing into a gigantic beast in her head. A beast with claws and teeth and penetrating eyes and a horrible, horrible whisper that spoke of sick amusement. 

****

'I have failed,' he thought, and the thought brought nothing but bafflement with it. 'I have failed. For the first time in a string of millennia, I have failed'. The elf shifted slightly in his armchair, the soft velvet no comfort for him today. 'How can that be?'

Over and over again, his mind went over the facts. Facts that were all to his advantage. Facts that had aided his relationship with humans uncountable times in the past. And yet....he had failed. 

This was strange and perhaps a bit disturbing. But what was even more strange and disturbing, was his sentiments about the matter. For instead of anger, he felt.........intrigue. Instead of loss, he felt a sharp pull. Instead of dislike he felt........attraction? He sighed and sat up, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I am too old for this," he thought, though the words did nothing to change what was in his heart. 

A long moment passed. "Alright," he said to himself finally, sounding as calm as ever, "so I feel attracted. It is only natural. Many times before have I felt so for many women." The mind of an elf began to work, then – a capable, intellectual and factual mind. 'It is only an intrigue,' that mind said. 'a pull to the new and the unknown. This, and nothing more. She seems unusual. Yes......for now. But once you delve deeper, certainly she will reveal that she is like every other mortal. Dive deeper, Legolas – where you see sophistication, you will find simplicity. Where you see uniqueness you will find the common. Dive deeper, for not too much further depth is there to go.'

Unconsciously he exhaled in relief. Indeed! Though something in him had sprouted to life at the hope of it, a stronger part of him still stood firmly with both feet planted on the ground. That Legolas was not interested in delusions of an oasis in this desert called life. His mind was ruled by facts and facts told him that the chances for such a thing was grim to none. He had no intentions of placing hope in it. No intentions of taking chances. Not to mention......losing a bet and looking ridiculous. 

With the idea of the Council a wave of frustration hit him and he massaged his face. 'Why, Legolas, did you engage in such a bet in the first place?' taunted the voice in his head. He refused to answer. It was plain and simple – he believed in his statement. For ages now he had been watching humans grow simpler and simpler. For ages he had been observing their flaws and their weaknesses overshadow their merits; their strength give in to their temptations; their virtues slowly burn in the flames of their greed. And he took no pleasure from the thought that Estel's line, too, was no exception to the rule. 

'Good,' it spoke up again then. 'Because I was under the impression that you were trying to shove her away from yourself.' The elf, amazed that such a thing was happening to him and that his unbreakable control was breached like this, froze and remained still, not sure what to think. Certainly that was not true! 

'And why, dear Prince, might that be?' was the amused addition, upon which Legolas actually and literally groaned for the first time in 213 years.

****

Anne talked so persistently and so long that Irulan moaned, yelled, moaned again, objected, refused to listen, tried to kick her and finally moaned once more. She tried locking herself in the bathroom, then used the pillow to diminish the voice. But nothing worked. It was the way with Anne. Once she put her mind on something, probably not even elves would be able to change it. Irulan had often thought that Anne was actually more suitable for the Circle than herself. But of course the blonde woman never was and never would be a member. She would remain Irulan's best friend, entrusted to this sort of information years ago. 

Finally though, a tiny, yet rather rational part of her admitted that indeed, perhaps she had overreacted a little. That, of course did not mean that Legolas was innocent. Not at all! But Irulan cared nothing for his mistakes. She only would answer for her own. "A simple 'no' would have done. All the anger was……a bit……alright so it had been unnecessary!" she mumbled stiffly. 

Anne, though supposedly not listening, said immediately "Maybe this is the best he can do!" Irulan just rolled her eyes and pretended not to hear. To her demise, Anne only took that as an encouragement. "All these years in this terrible world, Irulan! Not to mention….with who knows how foolish women! I mean…give the man a break!"

She gave Anne a glare, pursing her lips in anger. The other one just shrugged in innocence. "Maybe he does not know better."

"An ELF of his age and –hard to say, but- _wisdom_ does not know better?"

"Hey," Anne said with a grin, "he is still a man!" She laughed and added a "Love you," then left the room, whistling as she walked down the corridor. 

****

Finally, under the guidance of his staff, Anne arrived at his room. She gave a soft knock, and a moment later heard his soft "Come in". Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and entered the study, already dim with the setting twilight. Not that an elf needed light to see!

At her sight, he rose from his armchair and stood facing her while Anne smiled at his manners that forced him to stand when a woman entered or left. And this is why, no matter what, she would always adore elves. "Please, have a seat, Lady Anne," he said softly, motioning the armchair across his. 

"No 'lady' for me, Lord Legolas," she said with a wide smile and proceeded towards the furniture. It stood aligned and slightly facing the other one. Curiously, both were directed towards the large window instead of the room. 

"And no 'lord' for me," was his amused reply. 

Once she seated herself, he did the same, and remained looking at her with kind expectation. Anne bit her lower lip. Often she had dreamed of a conversation with Legolas. About the ways of the humans. The ways of the elves. The world in general. Not to mention, Middle Earth. And damn Fate, for it had to be about her foolish friend! "I came because of Irulan," she said finally. 

His eyebrows rose to that and even Anne could see the surprise on his face. It lasted only a few seconds, but it had been there! "She told you about our…..encounter?" he said carefully. Surely there was a better word for it, but Legolas seemed unable to think of it at the moment. 

"She did indeed. Irulan tells me everything. And I tell her, of course." 

The elf nodded in silence, watching her. He expected scolding. He expected criticism. Some harsh words perhaps. Or who knows – threats? Human could be very eccentric. All that or something similar. But not what Anne said afterwards: "She can be so dense!" he blinked in surprise, then decided that an answer was not needed of him, and that it would be wiser to wait it out. "Do you like her, Legolas?"

Legolas, careful not to say anything untrue, thought about that for a moment. "I do not know that, yet. She has not granted me the chance to discover."

Anne nodded seriously. "And would you like to discover?" The elf, shifted slightly in his chair then, cocking his head to give her a better look. Again, he chose not to reply. "Because I think you should."

"And why is that, Anne?" he said, breaking into a fabulous smile. 

"I know she does not look like it…..but she is worthy," said Anne, locking eyes with him. "And she deserves a good man. Not the useless, senseless guys she had."

A moment of silence passed. "What about David?" he said then, and it was more a surprise for him than for her, because he had no idea where that question had come from. He could not know of course that Anne's expression was not due to surprise, but rather discomfort. However, it vanished soon enough when she decided that once again her loyalty lay with Irulan.

"I would not call him a real relationship," she said dismissively. It was not a lie. Not _directly, anyway. _

"I do not see a woman in love in Irulan," he said carefully, testing the water. 

"Neither do I," grinned Anne. The man broke into a smile again and neither spoke for several moments, the meaning of that hanging in the air between them. Finally she spoke up again: "She is my best friend. Always was. Always will be. I want more for her." He felt a stab of guilt and it landed right at his heart, then. Not wishing to show his emotions, he downcast his gaze and remained so, listening to her. "And though I know the Eldar do not think so, I think –at least for a man and a woman who accept the truth and the rules of it- mortality is not a real barrier for a good relationship. After all…..nothing lasts anyway, is that not true?"

A moment passed. "Such is my observation," was his soft reply to that, though he turned at the window and not at her. 

"Do you mean to give up?"

Startled, he glanced at her shortly. "No." It was fast, short and honest. 

"Good," Anne said then with the ghost of a grin, "because I think she is about to."

He smiled at her once again, taking in her rather pretty features. Perhaps Anne did not know it herself, but women like this were priceless. Especially as friends. A friend who would kill Legolas –or rather, try to- if she knew his real purpose. Another stab of guilt followed that thought and he felt surprised to feel so much guilt about so natural a matter. After all, it only made sense to test the judgment of someone granted a high place in the Circle. 

Or did it not?

****

That same night when Irulan walked in for dinner, her improved state was not to be mistaken. She was, after all, a woman of the age and refused to crumble and fall apart with ever little (!) incident. She wore a casual and yet feminine dress that, with its baby blue color, served to bring out the olive tint of her skin and the dark tone of her hair which she had -to his demise- put up loosely. No matter how well heated, a castle was always on the chilly side and though she had lacked the preparations for a wet climate, her dress of soft wool with long sleeves and her long, suede boots indicated that she was yet well prepared for the cool weather. 

She looked far more beautiful and feminine, yes. And yet, Irulan was no beautiful woman. But that mattered little. For beauty was a matter of opinion and the Eldar were not too fascinated by physical beauty - having seen it in incomparable amounts in their own kind already. Legolas looked up in time to see her walk in and was instantly surprised by the punch of excitement that landed on his stomach at her sight. Perhaps it would be more understandable for him to feel annoyed. But he only felt delighted. Irritation would come far later, when he would discover that it was not a simple and mere pull that he was feeling towards Irulan. For now, a childish joy came with the realization that many years later, a new game was set and was waiting to be played. 

Nothing in his expression changed and soon enough his eyes darted away from her, not to look back for a while again. But inwardly he smiled, suddenly the pressing boredom of the whole meeting and the Circle and all the rest becoming the stage of an interesting play for him. He was eager to watch on and see what would become of this. 

For even though he had failed twice this day, it had not dampened his spirits at all. If anything, it had made him more determined. And he had learned that she was not the kind to bend under force or fear. Though small in number, he had met and encountered humans of this nature before, ('Such as Estel,' whispered a bemused voice in his mind, but he swiftly shut if off) and had observed that while they were as rigid and inflexible in the face of hard prodding, they were rather soft and bending when treated gently and with care. So his new strategy waited to be tried out as soon as possible. 

Irulan sat several chairs away from him (probably on purpose) and spoke little to anyone. Yet, the intimidation and shame she bore yesterday at the meal and her temper from the earlier hours seemed to have lifted. He caught her smiling several times to Haldir and exchanging hushed words with him and it was easy to see that a major reason for her relaxed state today was him. Legolas bid his time and did speak to neither, mostly keeping to the circle sitting closer to him. Time passed and though he heard either of them chuckle several times, his hearing did not manage to pick up anything over the murmur of conversation and that was most annoying. 

Finally, when once again they dispersed for dessert and tea, he observed her leaving to the terrace he had stood on with Haldir a few nights before. It was the perfect opportunity, and the hour being so late, perhaps the last one. So he took it. 

Irulan, lost in the view of the night sky that looked overly crowded with stars tonight, did not hear him approach. No human would, actually. But she felt the instant spark of both anger and yet fear when he spoke up behind her. Now the anger was understandable. The fear though…..?

"It seems that I can not apologize enough to you, Lady Irulan," he said softly and observed her tensing at his voice. "Twice it is, already."

She did not turn back immediately and he did not approach, waiting at a comfortable distance. Irulan bit her lower lip and tried to organize her thoughts. She tried to remember everything that Anne had said and that had made sense just a few hours ago and she tried to forget every argument in her that insisted on the opposite. She was Aragorn's heir, and even though she still had no intentions of assuming the responsibility of that status, she would not act like some ignorant, shallow, wild woman. She would not give them the opportunity to reach such conclusions about humans. Especially at the threshold of the decision the Circle would make in a few days. 

It took her a few minutes and the elf waited patiently through it. But when she did turn around, her face was far more composed and spoke of the reign of logic. "Once again, Lord Legolas," she said calmly, "I can only do the same."

He smiled then with relief and took a small step towards her, though the distance between them was still rather large. "It seems that we have started off not too well. And I am certain that it is my fault."

Her eyebrows rose at the modesty. Once again, he seemed to have changed entirely from a frosty man to a gentle elf. Not knowing how to counter that, she shrugged as he took another step and then turned to watch the night view for a moment. "However……it does not discourage me. Some of my best friendships started rather awkwardly."

Her eyes widened slightly and before she could help it, she said "Like Gimli?"

He locked eyes with her once more, a wonderful smile on his lips. "Like Gimli, son of Gloin," he said softly with a confirming nod. She looked away and Legolas knew that it was to hide her excitement. Humans loved the Old Days and the Fellowship and any mention of these things stroke the spark of curiosity in them. "So I hope," he added then, "that you and me will find our way through this labyrinth of a dark forest, as well."

She pursed her lips and halted in an attempt to choose her words carefully. "I respect you, Lord Legolas. Nothing has and nothing can change that."

He nodded gently, walking closer yet. "I am honored." A short silence followed as he fixed her eyes again, "But…….I am hoping for more."

Irulan swallowed hard. So this was what the fear was about! That foolish topic was in the horizon again, flying towards her, and she simply lacked the skill to evade it. "There can be no more," was her hoarse whisper and she wished it would have come out with more determination.

"Why do you fear me?" he said suddenly and Irulan's head snapped up at that. She gave him a long, dubious look, but found nothing in his expression to read. 

"I don't fear you," she said finally. "But I see no reason to engage in something pointless. I have no feelings for you."

Legolas nodded matter-of-factly. "Yet," he said with a smile. She sighed in frustration and looked away while he continued: "But it matters not if you ever will. Not all bonds are based on such grounds."

"What do you mean?" she said slowly then, "How can we not have feelings for each other and still have an affair?" A moment later her face darkened. "If you think that I will-"

"I did not say that we have no feelings for each other," he cut in smoothly, taking another step towards her. "All I am saying is, what we have, may suffice."

"I don't understand," she said after a silence. If anything, she was even more confused. 

The elf took a deep breath and looked away, then. "I am interested in you," he said finally and he sounded suddenly very serious. "Do you know what that means?" 

She blinked with surprise at his tone, then only shook her head in silence. 

"Have you ever been courted by an elf, Irulan?" he said then, cocking his head to take a long look at her while his hands clasped behind his back. 

"I…….no," she finished with a whisper, amazed at the intensity that was emanating from him.

The smile crawled back on his lips, then. He looked at her for a long moment, observing the alarm she was trying to hide so mercilessly. If he meant to persuade her, no better chance than this. "It does not surprise me," he said gently, inching closer yet, but halting again a few steps from her. "For if you had, you would know that we do not court." Irulan stood motionless, a frown and slight unease on her face, as his soft voice seemed to fill the world. "We……admire," he said then, his gaze impossible to hold, if not for the shock that made her do so. "We cherish. We adore. And worship." He stepped up, closing the distance between them as she moved back, but was stopped instantly upon the touch of his fingers on her cheek. Legolas stood right before her, and she felt like he was not an elf or a man…..but a force. Like some electromagnetic energy he stood, buzzing with something dangerous and yet so alluring. "It is in our nature to do so," he said, his tone now only low enough for her to hear. "It gives us immense pleasure. And to the one who is our object of adoration." None of this was a lie. Elves were very eager and gracious courters, who took the act upon themselves with grave commitment.

His fingers glided down her cheek, his eyes following it and her breath caught in her throat. How ridiculous to feel such an impact at such small a thing! He did not speak for a while, his fingers gliding below her jaw as his thumb continued caressing her cheek. His eyes found hers again and Irulan, who thought herself far from shy and girlish, actually blushed. Blushed, like some stupid, infatuated girl! The elf saw it, of course, and smiled slowly. "Will you not grant me such pleasure?" he said finally.

She pursed her lips and finally managed to tear her gaze away. That broke the spell a bit and Irulan moved back, breaking the contact. "It may be pleasurable," she said finally, finding it incredibly hard to put the words together, "but it is not wise. I will not sacrifice other values for pleasure alone."

Legolas looked at her for another minute, though she avoided eye-contact in fear of what it could do to her. "You once said that we have the same flaws we criticize in mortals," he said finally, his tone having gained determination, but no edge. "That we are as judgmental and prejudiced as they are. I agree now that you were right. And I am trying to change that. Will you not do the same, Irulan?"

Irulan only swallowed softly, still not looking up. She did neither hear, nor see his advance, but a moment later he was right before her once more, this time his fingers seeking out her own and pulling up her hand to fold it between his. "If I prove unworthy of it, you can always step back and I will not stop you."

"Lord Legolas," she stammered, trying to take her hand back, but failing at his gentle, yet strong grasp, "I really don't understand why…"

"For if you will not grant me a chance……you will prove my argument right." She ceased her struggle for a moment, then, and his grasp on her hand grew again. "I will not object any just words from you. Though it would be unfair to ask the same for unjust accusations."

"But I…"

"A chance is all I ask. A chance like you would give any other. Like you gave David." She sighed in frustration to that and stubbornly avoided looking at him. "If nothing will become of it, we can part with no harm inflicted on either of us."

"How simple you make it sound," she snorted finally, tugging at her hand again. 

Legolas ignored her tugging and smiled. "If you do not trust me, surely you trust yourself?" he said then. "Or do you fear to fall prey to my attempts, Irulan? I see no woman before me, who would get carried away by the deeds of any man – neither immortal, nor mortal."

Now that was an unfair move. "Look," she said finally and with a mighty pull, snatched her hand back, "you offer me……something……something like….I don't know……..you offer me chocolate! Yes, and tough the taste might be fabulous, I simply do not want to eat!"

"Ah," he said then, chuckling with delight, "but I offer you only a bite. Throw away the rest, if you will."

"It was an allegory," she said, a little edgy, "you know what I mean!"

"I do," sighed Legolas, but gave no indication of defeat. "And once again – refuse me now, and you prove that I was yet right. That mortals ARE prejudiced, stiff and fearful." She glared at him and he smiled back warmly. "But……refuse me later….." he said suggestively, "and know that my vote in the Meeting lies with yours."

Her eyes widened with that remark. "Are you….bribing me?" she said incredulously. 

"Not at all," was the cool reply. "It is only understandable that I will support your argument if indeed you prove me wrong in the matter of your kind." He was smart enough to know that if he failed and if she won (which was not to be, of course), this would be the outcome anyway. Placing it as a prize held no risk whatsoever. 

"I set no example for my kind," she said stiffly. "You can not hold Cate responsible for my failures."

He gave her a long look. "Yes, I can," he said then slowly and did not blink as she stared at him in shock. "For are you not taking me and the handful of elves you met as a sample for MY kind?" He allowed a small gap, then continued: "It took you one meeting with me and one dinner alone to come to conclusions about us Eldar, Irulan. I think it is only fair."

Irulan knew right then and there that she was defeated. And that –as horrible as it sounded- this elf was right. She, with her big mouth and uncontrollable temper had slashed out needlessly and had managed to put herself in this very position! She had accused them, insulted them and judged them. Why whimper and whine when the same was to be done to her?

Legolas was too experienced in the art of discussion not to see her defeat. And once again, he was too smart to risk his upper hand. So he smiled and found her hand again, bringing it up for a soft kiss, as Irulan seemed to be too dazed to object. "I will see you tomorrow, my lady," he said gently. A moment later he was gone, walking away with silent steps as finally the wind seemed to be blowing his way. 

****


	7. Ripples of Change

The next morning could not come soon enough for the elf. He spent most of the night in thought and action concerning the preparations for it. Legolas had not lied - courting was an incredible pleasure for elves and they took it rather seriously. And in all his relationships - no matter how shallow or short-lived they had been, he had always been immensely gracious, kind and overwhelming for as long as the affair continued. Which, of course, had swept the women off their feet and made the parting even more difficult on their behalf. 

However, even though he denied it fervently, his efforts of pleasing this lady seemed far stronger in comparison to the former times. 'Nothing to wonder about,' Legolas told himself as he lay on his bed, watching the ceiling. 'After all, I have an important wager to consider. Yes. Certainly I can not let this decision to chance. So.....true, there is more effort, but there is reason for it.' He almost fooled himself. Almost. 

Irulan, on the other hand, had a sleepless night herself. Though not due to similar sentiments. She had arrived at her room pale as a ghost and Anne, rather worried at that, had squeezed the conversation out of her. Then she had proceeded to explain to Irulan how lucky she was to have an elf -Legolas, on top of that!- asking for such a thing and that she would surely never regret it and that she would have the best time ever. 

Irulan had listened in silence, mumbled half hearted agreements, then had retired for bed. Though sleep evaded her now. 'How on earth did I end up in this position?!' she thought over and over again. No doubt that it was her own fault, as the elf had pointed out. But that still did not explain HIS sudden and rather awkward interest in her. For who was Irulan, compared to the many admirers a man like Legolas had? She was neither beautiful, nor exceptionally smart. As a matter of fact, other than her lineage, Irulan had nothing special about her, at all. She tossed and turned, the lump in her throat refusing to settle and her sleep intentionally avoiding her. It felt wrong. It was not natural. Not understandable. There was no logic to it. And certainly no feelings. Try as she might, she simply failed to find a reason for such a thing and though some might say that there are rarely reasons for affairs of the heart, 1-this was not an affair of the heart, and 2-Irulan was not in the mood to accept such a romantic babble. 

'I can always refuse later,' she thought then. 'I can refuse and Cate and Jonathan can be happy forever. It is a small price for such a thing. What is a day or two in that horrid elf's company?!" With such thoughts she fell asleep in the earlier hours of the day and woke up with the shadow of confusing, dark dreams on her. Instantly she remembered the former night and moaning with defeat, got up to get dressed. 'The Heavens help me this day!' she thought bitterly as she was combing her hair rather harshly, 'Who knows what that mad elf is planning!'

However, she had no intentions of making things easy on him. None whatsoever. She dressed rather casually and avoided make-up on purpose. He might have backed her into a corner, but Irulan was not about to give in so soon. She grabbed her cell phone (to call in if she should get lost out there in the forest or something) and with such -rather hollow- determination finally strode out the room and halted for a moment, not sure how to proceed. A set of intimidated glances around proved that Legolas was not there. 'Stop acting like a stupid child!' she told herself mentally, annoyed at the degree of fear she was feeling. It did nothing to lessen her sentiments. Then suddenly the idea that he might not spot or find her soon enough to engage in any activity for the whole day came to her and her heart actually grew lighter with the thought of it! It was rather stupid, since she was not going to hide some place and the elf would not find it difficult to excavate her if he intended to do so, but for the moment it cheered up her spirits and Irulan felt a little better. 

She strode down the corridor and was about to march down the stairs in silence, meaning to walk out of the castle to take a morning stroll and thereby get lost in the rather large woods surrounding it, when her glee was disrupted too soon:

"Good morning, Irulan," Legolas said softly, rising from the armchair he had been sitting in and which stood at an angle that was not visible from her current location. 

She froze in mid-step and only after squeezing the phone in her hand till her hand hurt and taking a set of deep breaths managed to continue her action of walking down the stairs - far slower and with an air of defeat, this time. She glanced in his direction and indeed, Legolas stood erect, looking as gorgeous as ever in his green coarse sweater that gave his blue eyes a hazel hue, and his loose hair. 'Oh dear God!' she thought in dismay, struggling to keep the expression off her face, 'he has been WAITING for me!'

And Legolas indeed had been waiting for Irulan. For hours now. And as he stood there, exchanging glances with her and reading her face -which spoke of defeat, dislike and terror all at the same time- he felt that punch of excitement in his stomach once more. Surely he was far too old to feel like this! For any woman - much less for one of this character! And yet, he was excited and there was no use denying it. Finding excuses was far more useful at this stage. 'I am an elf, after all,' he told himself silently. 'No matter what the reason, the act of courting will heighten my spirits.'

His smile brightened at the small inner relief that explanation offered as his gaze wandered over he attire, which seemed to be even more casual today than before. And though Irulan had meant that to be a discomfort to him, unknown to her, it was only yet another source of delightful surprise, since he could not recall any other of his 'date's when the woman had shown up like this.

She had not replied to his greeting. But he ignored that and began a slow walk towards her while with each of his steps her expression grew even sourer. "Have you slept well?" he said softly, remaining a short step away from her. 

"Like a baby," Irulan said smoothly, pushing up her chin. 

His smile deepened at that. "I hardly did," he said then, and moving in to place his hand on her lower back -and ignoring the tenseness that traveled through her with that- guided her through the room. "I felt tempted to prepare more than I had in mind."

Irulan did not answer and walked a little faster to make him remove his hand. Of course he only moved gracefully along with her and his hand remained on her lower back. "Look," she began then with a stiff tone, "I don't think I feel up to anything today." She glanced at him to see the result of that and how surprising was it that he gave no indication of hearing at all! "I think I feel a little tired." She pursed her lips and hastily added "And a little sick. Perhaps I have a cold."

"Ah.....how fitting, then that we will be in a warmer climate soon enough."

"Yes. So I think.........er…….warmer climate?"

Legolas only smiled brightly at her and continued leading her through another corridor as her ears picked up a very peculiar sound. And try as she might, she failed to place it in her mind for the next minute or so, while their stroll through the castle persisted and the sound grew louder and louder. Until they reached the exit to the large rear garden and behold, a private helicopter stood on the lawn, the engines already running! Irulan just blinked and looked agape as the wind assaulted her with the opening of the doors and Legolas pushed her gently out into the open, towards the machine. 

Luckily she was too shocked at such an unexpected thing at this eerie hour and that shock prevented any drastic moves on her behalf. Only when they reached the steel bird did Irulan feel her mind beginning to function again and grabbed the frame of the door in an attempt to resist. It did her no good, for Legolas swiftly entered and while doing so, grasped her waist, effectively pulling her along with him. 

Irulan felt her hands gliding off the frame that was not much to hold on to at his strong pull and to her horror, ended up sitting on his lap as he glided onto the seat, one of his hands letting go of her waist to pull the door shut. With that motion the sound decreased a good amount and she felt his hand resuming its place on her waist. Instantly Irulan jumped up and as far away from him as possible. An amused smile was on his lips when she turned around to give him a glare. 

"You are free to remain if you fear flying," he said coolly and that set her off. 

"Are you insane?!" she yelled over the noise. "I want out! NOW!"

"Do not worry, it is not a long flight," he said, his face as expressionless as possible. "But...I must urge you to buckle up for your own safety." Under her disbelieving look he calmly grasped her arms and pushed her to sit beside him. Another moment later he was adjusting her belt and once again Irulan tried to get up. Though Legolas was faster and pushed her down with a single hand. "Don't get up. We are about to leave ground."

"*I* am not going anywhere!" she yelled in rage. 

Her words proved to be empty as she felt the chopper rise and sway exactly at that moment. Irulan, all rage suddenly forgotten in the face of the unbelievable becoming real, unconsciously grasped his forearm and shut her eyes with all her strength. Legolas finished tying his own belt, then carefully unclenched her hand and entwined his own fingers with hers, watching her as she, unconscious of that action, did not fight him or open her eyes. On the contrary, her grasp on his hand grew in an effort to find support. And why on earth did that feel so good? 

He sighed and looked out the window. Already they were halfway through. Another fifteen minutes later the airport was beneath them. The chopper circled the nearby landing area a few times, then began a descend. 

"We are almost there," soothed Legolas, leaning closer to be overheard. 

Irulan just pursed her lips and did not open her eyes. "I will so kill you Greenleaf when this is over!" she hissed between her teeth and if Legolas was not reading her lips, he would not have understood at all. In reply his smiled grew wider. 

Five minutes after that they were out of the chopper, Legolas still in grasp of her hand. Irulan, very blanched at this point and more than bewildered, just ran along with him till they left the noise and wind behind and once they were in the airport itself, Legolas slowed to a milder pace. She swallowed down the sickness that had come with the bumpy ride and only then became aware of her hand in his. Her eyes widened with shock and with one sharp pull, she snatched it away and stopped abruptly. 

"You.....you......" she stammered, unable to utter anything else for a moment, "you MADMAN!" The elf only looked at her with raised eyebrows. "I am going back!" she hissed between clenched teeth. "Right this minute!"

"And how exactly are you planning to do that?" was his calm question. 

And that's when Irulan finally realized that she was in the middle of a huge airport, hours of driving away from the castle, her bag left behind due to the unexpected trip. Which meant that she had no ID. No money. No credit card. She swallowed softly, the chill of the day working its way through her shirt, since she had not taken a jacket with her, either. She locked eyes with him again, now feeling more afraid than mad. And for the first time, she saw what Legolas really was. He was beyond her in everything. Always five steps ahead of her. He was smarter. Faster. Better. More experienced. More determined. More calculating. There was simply no way she could compete with a creature like this. She might as well give up now. 

Legolas, having given her enough time to digest the condition she was in, slowly walked up to her, his eyes never leaving hers. After all, he did not want her to dash away again. This one had that tendency. But also, he was not evil. Or rude. Or coarse. He would not treat a woman –much less a woman he is courting- in an unbefitting manner. He placed his hand on the small of her back again before he spoke up: "No need to fear. You are safe. We are taking a little trip, that's all."

Irulan swallowed again, entwining her fingers before her and looking down. "I do not.....like being dragged.....like this," she said, her voice shaking a little. A part of her tried to summon her New York spirit. But finding herself so helpless and clueless, her courage just refused to return. Legolas' scheme had worked, by the looks of it. For the sudden 'kidnapping' had indeed put her in a stupefied state.

"Yes, of course," he said a moment later and gently pushed her along as Irulan finally began a slow walk. "It was meant to be a surprise, therefore I did not explain." True to his guess, his soft and gentle manner helped her to relax and calm down a little. Humans were so easy to read!

"Well....what is the surprise then?" she said, not sure what to think. 

"Ah," he said with a beguiling smile, "if I told you, it would not be a surprise now, would it?"

She glanced up in irritation, but he did not look down at her and instead, guided her to the private jet that was awaiting them. 

****

"It looks far mightier in reality," she said in awe, her eyes traveling along the Coliseum. The elf did not speak and merely watched her profile, observing her reactions. Her excitement was obvious and he smiled at her unheeded expressions. She was like an open book, waiting to be read and no care about hiding this fact. Again, this was not like the Aragorn he had known. But it was not a bad change of character. Not bad at all. 

Suddenly she turned to him and locked eyes and he blinked with the surprise of that. Irulan looked at him for a long moment and he gazed back, unable to look away and distantly hoping that his astonishment was not too obvious on his visage. "Have you been here before?" she said then very slowly, cocking her head, her gaze becoming more intense. 

Shaken by the sudden and strange air that had overcome him, he remained silent for a moment. "Of course," he said finally. Though he STILL could not look away. 

She smiled then and another punch landed on his stomach. Before he could even get annoyed by that, she spoke again: "No," she said with a lower voice. "I meant........BEFORE."

Legolas took a deep breath and finally broke his gaze, swallowing softly. "I have," he said, his eyes wandering over the structure. He shifted slightly and stood erect; placing his hands on the railing he had been leaning on – mainly to gather his focus again. 

"How was it?" she said, with a tinge of nervousness in her voice. He did not dare to turn back to her, a part of him –as ridiculous as it sounded- afraid of getting caught in her gaze again. 

A bitter smile emerged on his lips, then. "Why the past?" he said finally as she did not divert her eyes from him and he did not turn away from the view. It sounded more like a question asked to himself, than to anyone else. "It is gone and dead. For all times."

A moment passed between them as a cluster of birds took wing and rushed by and above them. "Why do you say that?" she said then and try as he might, Legolas simply could not help his head from turning around and his eyes locking with hers again. "YOU are not dead," she said, her voice serious, her brows furrowed. "The past lives in you."

He stared back, something about the whole conversation and the surroundings and the atmosphere dazzling him to a strange state of mind. But he could not find what that thing was and itched with the helplessness of it. "Sometimes," he heard himself saying then, amazed that he was actually speaking, "I wish it did not."

Her eyebrows rose slowly in reply to that. "A curse you say," was the comment, her voice sounding almost inhuman and strange in its gentleness and slight tinge of surprise, "but a blessing it is."

No words could describe what Legolas felt then. If he were asked to, he could not explain it, either. It was perhaps too ethereal to be put into words. It was a break. A gap. An interlude. A pause. Though, of course he did not know it to be so, then. For after that moment, his life was divided into two eras: The time before Irulan, and the time after her. Out of nowhere, she came flying like a little, seemingly common rock, right into the calm, composed and tranquil pool that he was. So small a thing came out of the blue and behold, a chaos of ripples and waves erupted in him! Gone was the peace. Gone was the serenity. A little rock…and the end of inner peace. For all times. 

"Will you tell me or not?" Irulan said then, waking him up from his daze. He swallowed and once again turned his head away. 

"Tell what, Lady Irulan?" he said, perhaps a bit stiffly, his mind whirling and that damn punch landing on his stomach once more. 

She caught the tenseness in his voice (not to mention his formal way of addressing her) and slightly shifted to step away from the railing, feeling uncomfortable about many things at once. First off, the fact that she was not mad at him any longer was not good. Not good at all. Second, 'What's with the friendly conversation, Irulan?!' she scolded herself, unconsciously rubbing her arms, though it was nowhere as chilly here as England. Third, he was not trustable! He was not nice! He was not a real date, damn it! "About.....about the past. This place," she said, shrugging deftly, unsure how to behave towards him. 

The elf used all his willpower to gather his wits again. He was aware that the last sentence had come out a bit rough, and this was not the time to act hasty and break the spell. He smashed away the remnants of his daze, not caring for explanations and not wanting any either at this point, and produced another one of those breath-taking smiles. When he finally turned to Irulan, she was observing him with unease and suspicion, but he did not find it hard to break those sentiments now. "If that is what you wish," he said gently and watched her unease growing at his soft tone. The true hunter he was, he had learned fast enough that the way to capture a beast like Irulan was to be soft and trustworthy, instead of aggressive and frightening. He had no intentions of lying to her. Or playing with her. Or fooling her. But he did intend to tempt her, after all. And she seemed rigid and determined in the face of force, but rather bendable with a kinder approach. 

"But," he added then, loftier, "I shall do so only if you agree to dine with me."

Irulan rolled her eyes then, as if expecting that sort of move. "I think we should return now," she said, trying to remind herself that she was in a different country. Suddenly something occurred to her: "Wait! How did I enter this place with no passport?" 

"Ah," he said, waving his arm dismissively, "to create identification or passports is, by now, a rather easy procedure to us," he said, his self-confidence slowly returning. "You know that. Besides, the European Union has changed all that. It is rather easy to travel around here, nowadays."

He watched her as she pursed her lips, thinking about that. "Good," was her sole reply. "Let us return, then."

Legolas smiled. No matter how old or wise or well-taught, children they were, forever. "I take it that you do not want to know what kind of man Caesar was, then?" he said with an air of disinterest. She bit her lower lip, not looking up. "Or Cicero?" Irulan swallowed softly, still refusing to lock eyes, afraid that he would read her frantic excitement in them. Legolas sighed and barely keeping off a grin, crossed his arms on his chest. "How unfortunate! For if you WERE interested.....I could tell you much about other men that I met in Greece, as well. Like Socrates. Or Aristo." He waited another moment, watching her shift on her feet with suppressed discomfort. "My conversations with Alexander the Great are worthy of telling. And Cleopatra was not half as beautiful as many say she was. Though twice as cunning. Also, if I recall-"

"Alright!" she burst then, blushing with anger towards her own weakness but at this point simply unable to refuse. "Alright, damn it!" Legolas tried to look as blank as possible, though he was certain that some of his amusement emanated from him, no matter what. She gave him a furious look, then glanced down at her fingers again, entwining them nervously. 

He was no man to take advantage of something like that or to slap her weakness and curiosity to her face. It was ill mannered and childish. Having gained what he wanted, he softly grasped her arm and began to lead her away, instantly erasing the atmosphere of a victory on his, or a defeat on her behalf. "I know a very fitting place," he said matter-of-factly. "And this time, Irulan, I hope that you will stay long enough to actually taste the food."

****

"Alright. Rome! Tell me about Rome!"

He smiled at the tone of enthusiasm in her voice and took a sip from his wine. "Which Rome?" 

Irulan moaned, then pursed her lips, looking around her. It was not right to moan in a fancy restaurant like this one. She looked ridiculous enough in her current overly casual outfit. Not to mention that she suspected Legolas bringing her to an overly classy place like this ESPECIALLY because she had dressed so casual! Though of course he had offered to shop for clothes but she had declined. Once again she turned to lock eyes with him, his amusement rather annoying at this point. "The old Rome," she seethed. 

"Which period?" he said leisurely and grinned at the flutter of fury across her face. She exhaled with defeat and turned to gaze down on her plate. And was that a soon-to-be pout on her face? 'Amazing!' thought the elf with awe. "I have been here several times," he said finally in a soothing manner. "And it was different each time, of course." Though her stance relaxed a little, she did not look up. "If it is its Golden Age you are asking about," he continued, "Rome was indeed a city worth seeing. It was.....vibrant. And brutal. It was sensual and merciless. It was all about pleasure - in any imaginable way. Most of which, I am sure, humanity would not recall fondly."

He halted, locking eyes with her as she listened with rapt attention. "Many cities can be described like that, today," she said. "Some would say New York is so, too."

Legolas nodded deftly, his gaze wandering around him, perceiving the soft light of candles, the expensive and tasteful design, the silent murmur of conversations. "New York or any major city may have some of those features......but it has nothing of the glory Rome had. Or the splendor that Thebes had. Or the majestic beauty of Istanbul." He sighed softly. "There was a spirit in those cities. One could almost call it romance. It was not harsh and mechanic like today. It was tasteful and pleasant to the eye. For in those days humans were concerned about aesthetics and beauty and art."

She nodded absent-mindedly, thinking that the coldness and rather ugly and pragmatic facade of the metropolitan cities of today could hold no comparison of the elegance of those times. 

"You see," he said and slightly leaned forward, placing his arms on the table, "life was perceived different. It was not about working and shopping. It was about....living. About enjoying that time given to you. About cherishing the mere joy of it." Irulan watched him as his eyes seemed to glaze ever so slightly and he became silent for many moments. It was the way of the elves and she was aware of that, so she did not move or speak and waited patiently. "Even clothes were such a grave matter," he continued in a while, with a tinge of amusement. "And hair. And looks altogether. It mattered how you spoke. How you walked. And unlike today, it mattered a lot how well and how much you knew about the world. As a matter of fact, verbal discussions about philosophy or politics were very common and sought out, in ancient Rome. Not just beauty of the body was expected - but beauty of the heart as well. And of the mind. Beauty in every form and shape."

Legolas blinked then, amazed that he had spoken so long and given himself over to the memory of those years. He had never liked delving into the past - mainly because it brought that sting of longing with it. And yet today it seemed a rather enjoyable experience. He swallowed softly, staring back at her focused expression, a part of him still not in understanding how she could have such an effect on him. 

A moment passed between them. "Yes?" Irulan said softly. "Please continue."

He did not look away, mentally in hard effort to grasp the fluctuations of his sentiments. Finally, failing once more, he plastered another smile on his face. "Surely," he said slowly, "it is not fair to take and not to give?" Irulan just blinked back in confusion. "Many decades has it been since I have recalled these memories," he added cautiously. "And though it may seem simple, it is not so easy a step to take, on my behalf." He allowed a short silence. "Would it be too much to ask you to take a step as well?" 

Her eyes only betrayed her growing confusion and Legolas, his eyes never leaving hers, very slowly reached out then, gently enfolding his hand on hers, which had been playing with the stem of her wine glass. Her fidgeting stopped immediately and her hand went limp and rigid. Irulan swallowed softly, not daring to look away from him, though she wanted to do so, very much at the moment. She felt his fingers gliding into her palm and gaining a loose grasp on her hand, and it felt...downright.......WRONG. She broke the gaze, staring at the white surface of her plate instead and wondering how such a stupidly simple thing could affect her so much.

"As I have said before," she managed to choke out finally, rather shaky, "I have someone in my life."

"He is not here with you," came his calm voice. "But I am."

"Still," she swallowed softly, "I am loyal to my bonds."

He did not answer right away. But a moment later said: "No bonds of your heart are these."

Irulan pursed her lips in frustration. Good thing she had actually made up a boyfriend. If he was this daring and persistent now, who knows how he would be without it! "They are bonds of my words. I am true to them," she said finally, tugging at her hand. To her shock and surprise, Legolas did not let go and automatically her gaze glided up to lock with his. 

"Such an innocent touch would not break them," he said with determination, watching with disbelief how she refused him over and over again. A thought fluttered though his mind, then: 'Could she indeed be worthy of Estel's line?' But a stubborn and sterner part of him drowned it immediately, whispering to him not to give in to idle observations so easily. "And I ask for nothing more," he added in a soothing manner. 

"Lord Legolas," she sighed and he knew that she was angry at him just by the use of his title. "You may have a larger view of life. Which is very natural. But I am only human and my borders are not drawn so leisurely. What you ask for is not an act of friendship, so I must decline." With that she finally managed to pull her hand away and deftly exhaled a breath of relief at the loss of contact. 

The same loss of contact stroke a flame of frustration in Legolas, who was amazed at such a discovery and once more hesitated, searching his mind as to why that was. "Friendship is not my objective, Irulan," he said, his mind finally finding no good explanation and settling down again. He swallowed, looking at her and feeling the pulsing need to reach out and touch her again. The thought alone confused and unsettled him immensely. 

"It is all that you will get from me," she said, trying to sound as determined as possible. 

He sighed and entwining his fingers on the table, slightly leaned forward, focusing on her. "What is it that this David has and I do not?"

She blinked in surprise, then shifted on her seat with unease. 'Fine thing indeed, Irulan! Go on elaborating.....since your lie seems to require more and more details every day,' said a rather dry voice in her head.

"That is none of your concern," was the dismissive reply and a rather anxious effort to close the subject. 

Of course the elf had no intentions of letting go. "It is very much so," he said, and that cold voice was back again. Obviously Legolas did not like to be declined. 

"Look," she said finally, "I don't know. I just....happen to......well....."

"Do not say you are in love with him," he cut in then. "For as I have told you before, I can see that you are not."

She glared at him, then continued playing with her wine glass. A moment later, though, afraid that he would hold her hand again, hastily took it back and folded it on her lap. "What exactly does this have to do with Rome?" 

He smiled with amusement then and leaned a little back, observing her discomfort. "He has not called you today, either," he said suddenly and watched her freeze with the surprise of it. As foolish as it was, her gaze went to the phone that stood on the table and she looked up to see Legolas inspecting her with one of those penetrating gazes again. "He is busy," she added, her throat feeling dry. Damn this elf! And Rome! And David!

"Busy?" was his awe of a reply, followed by the raising of his eyebrows. "My word would be 'unworthy'," he said a moment later. Irulan clenched her jaws and did not reply. Unconsciously she began to play with her wine glass again. "And foolish," he added, and this time she flinched when his hand found hers once more. "It is a grave mistake to be so careless about a woman like you, Irulan. For sooner or later someone will see your worth and seek your company."

"Let go of my hand," she said tersely. 

Legolas looked at her for a long moment. "I will do so," he said finally with a fabulous smile, "when David calls."

Her eyes widened at that as he only strengthened his grasp and pulled it a little towards himself, his face berating no discomfort at all. "W-what?!" she stammered, panic growing in her. 

"You have nothing to worry," he said leisurely, and the tint of mocking was hard to miss, "since he calls you ever so often."

"A-are you........let go!" she hissed, pulling a little, to no end. 

"It is only fair," he said calmly, observing her protests. "All get what they deserve. You are worthy of such treatment, as I count myself privileged to share your touch. And David," he said, leaning slightly forward again, "deserves the lack of it. For his disregard of you, to say the least." Irulan just stared at him agape, once again feeling only fear at his cunningness. She gave the phone a sidelong glance, wishing with all her might that it would ring. And then something strange occurred to her: How come Anne had not called her, although she had been missing the whole day? She had no chance to delve further into that strange little fact before he spoke up again, this time with a far merrier tone: "Now......ask away. What would you like to know about Rome?"

Irulan pursed her lips and gave him a very stern look. A string of silent moments passed as his fingers gently caressed the back of her hand, though he did not break eye-contact with her. Finally Legolas sighed softly. "I am true to my word, Irulan. If he calls, I shall let go." He waited a little, then added "But....he doesn't."

"I am not a piece of furniture," she hissed finally. "I do not have to belong to a man. You can not make such demands of me, regardless if he calls or not."

"I demand nothing," he said calmly. "I only seek to please you. And to gain your liking in return."

"This does not please me!" was her rather harsh reply. Suddenly she hesitated as his expression grew frosty with a speed that she did not expect. An aura of anger emanated from him and Irulan, against all her courage, found her heart faltering at the perception of it. She stopped tugging her hand as -no matter how ridiculous- a fear came over her. For a few hours, she had actually forgotten what this creature was and had thought of him as a mere man. But this was no man. 

"Neither does it please me to be scolded like some misbehaving child," the elf said very slowly and in all their time together, she had only observed his calm and cold facade, along with his arrogance and irritating self-confidence. His anger was completely new and overly intimidating. At the face of such a thing she only managed to swallow and remain unmoving, afraid of fueling it further. 

Legolas released her hand then and folded his once more on the table, looking down on his plate. A storm of frustration was roaming through him and for many millennia he had not felt so weak in the face of it. For the first time, he questioned his decision concerning this wager. For the first time, he almost thought that he should regret it. Because things were not going the way they should. Not at all! 

It was not her reluctance or refusal that upset him so. No, that only intrigued him. It was his.....desperation, for the lack of a better word, in the face of such refusal! He brought up his left hand and massaged his face, trying to wipe away the overpowering sentiments that seemed to spring forth at any given chance. All this confusion......all this chaos.....for what? Because some woman denied him what he wanted? And what was it what he wanted anyway? Holding her hand?! He almost chuckled at the silliness of it, but swallowed it down mercilessly. The wish to do so was beyond funny at this point. It was more like.....insane. And irrational! And stupid! And yet....there it was....pulsing in him like a single flame. 

'This is ridiculous,' he thought, but no stern determination was in that thought. 'Certainly there is another reason for my confusion!' He swallowed, his hand on his face remaining as he still did not feel like he had resumed his cool composure and control. 'Fine move, Legolas,' he scolded himself mentally. 'Your skills of courting seem to have diminished quite a bit!'

And then something utterly unexpected happened. He felt her touch on his right hand that remained on the table between them. And the touch brought a tremor of pleasure that was downright frightening in its intensity. He did not breathe or move out of sheer strain to keep the grasp on the leash of his sentiments. There was a time to accept failure and the might of your opponent. That time, though not too far now, was not here for Legolas, yet. So, no matter how aware he was of the unbelievable gush of feelings it caused in him, he carefully avoided any thought as to why that might be and stubbornly cleared his mind of any thoughts concerning the matter. 

But the slight surprise was still on his face when he finally uncovered it and looked at a rather anxious and worried, somewhat embarrassed Irulan. 'A mortal woman!' he thought then, eager to find flaws in her. 'Not beautiful. Not graceful. Not well mannered.' To his demise, these thoughts echoed no dislike in him whatsoever. 

"I apologize," she said gently and he could only blink in reply to that. The feeling of her hand on his was overwhelming and it took a lot of strength to divert his thoughts from it. "I was rude......to say the least." A moment passed and Irulan took his silence and blank expression as a sign of his doubt and disappointment. And why the hell was his disappointment in her so damn important? "My treatment of you was wrong. It will not happen again," she finished. 'Or so I hope. But with me...you never know,' she added mentally with a tinge of dismay. 'Some heir of Aragorn, indeed! Stupid, silly woman!' 

On her behalf, Irulan's gesture was one of innocent goodwill. Not to mention, embarrassment. No matter how irritating and demanding, Legolas was doing his best to entertain her. He had been doing so the whole day. And this entire trip proved that he had made extreme preparations for this date. The least she could do was to be kind to him. She could still refuse him, but why be ill mannered and ungrateful? And……let's face it – she had been rude. Her tone and her attitude was one that was fitting for the scolding of a child – not an elf of his status and power. He had not been stressing his title with her, but that did not mean that she should treat him like a commoner or even lower than any commoner. 

He exhaled a breath he did not know he was holding and the smile that followed was not fake, but very real. "No worries," he said, his heart beating with something he failed to recognize and at the moment not cared to recognize, either. His hand glided around hers to grasp it gently once more and though her gaze reflected slight unease with that motion, this time she did not pull away - probably in fear of causing some similar tenseness. 

A silence set in between them as both -unknown to each other- felt very parallel feelings of confusion, surprise and unease. Thankfully the waiters arrived then, adorning their table with the ordered dishes. And finally, though another wave of resent seemed to swell with it, Legolas let go of her hand and watched her picking up her wine glass. His own gaze went to his food and with a sigh he picked up his fork, though all appetite seemed to be lost for good. 

****

The rest of the meal began tense, but soon softened into comfort and as Irulan relaxed with the effect of the exquisite wine on her senses, Legolas let go of his tenseness at the sight of her ease. He discovered soon enough that Irulan was an incredibly curious woman -something that not too many were amongst mortals these days - and that for one answer that he gave, she had the ability to produce three more questions. Though Legolas did not mind. He told himself stubbornly that nothing had changed. That everything was still going as planned, and then shoved the idea aside. 'I can not allow it to distract me now,' he said to himself as an explanation for that move and delved into the pleasure of the conversation of the moment. 

And a conversation it was, indeed. For in all honesty, he could not remember speaking so much since an incredibly long time! Like all elves, he was not too eager about verbal interaction. And had grown less eager in time, as boredom of the same, cliché communications had tired him. But today, he found himself in a mood that was fueled by quite extraordinary circumstances. For one thing, Irulan was aware of the existence of elves. This was an immense difference, of course. Otherwise, under normal circumstances it would not be possible to explain to any mortal encounters with Titus or Plato; or his recollections of the older version of this country. Secondly, she was more than interested and such an audience was a surprisingly delightful thing. And last but not least, HER presence was simply......a pleasure. 

"Alexander the Great HIT ON YOU?!" she said, her mouth falling open. 

He chuckled despite himself at her shocked expression. "He was VERY interested in me, yes," he said with a slight grin. 

She just looked at him, bewildered. "You must be joking!"

Legolas chuckled again, shaking his head as his fingers glided over hers in a caress. "I really am not. Would you like to see the letter he wrote me?" Her mouth fell open again and he grinned. "I am sure that my description would not suffice to do justice to such....ardor."

"So w-what happened?!" she said with an urgent whisper, slightly jumping in her seat. 

Legolas looked up at her with surprise. "Nothing, of course," he said slowly, not sure if he should take her question as a joke or as a serious comment. 

"You REFUSED Alexander the Great?!" The amazement in her tone was even stronger than before. 

He leaned back, his eyebrows raised in amusement while his hand did not let go of the warm contact with hers - although she seemed completely oblivious to it at the moment. "This might come as a shock to you, Irulan," he said then, "but Alexander happened to be a man."

She halted suddenly, realizing the suggestion she had made and a blush moved up her cheeks at that. The elf just observed her with increasing delight and kept silent as she swallowed hard, her free hand traveling to the napkin to play with it in discomfort. "Well....I know that......of course," she choked out with difficulty. 

"Oh," was the soft, surprised reply. Legolas fought down a grin and added: "Then.....why such a question?"

She blushed a deeper red and her fingers tortured the napkin with further strength. "No...I mean........I just........"

"What exactly are you suggesting?" he said slowly, with mock shock. But since her gaze was not on him, she took his words serious enough and stopped stiffly. 

"Nothing!" Irulan bit her lower lip mercilessly, frantic with embarrassment. To say such a thing to an elf! Not to mention, THE elf! They were so damn sensitive about manners and obviously she had said something very rude. "I only.....I mean I was carried away.......because you know.......I mean......"

She heard him laugh then, and did not know what she felt more surprised about - the fact that he had been playing with her, or the fact that he was actually laughing. Though certainly this should not be called a laugh - for it was far too melodious and graceful a thing for that word. Irulan watched in amazement as his soft laughter continued for several moments and something warm bloomed in her at the perception of it. Something that had not bloomed at the sight of his impressive and breath-taking beauty. And it could not be her imagination, either - for from the corner of her eye, she observed many heads turning to the sound that was perhaps the strongest proof that this creature was no human. 'Against all his coldness and bitterness, something in him is alive after all,' she thought then and the idea brought a smile up to her face. 

"That was not funny," she managed to say several moments later; though with the smile on her face it was not too much of a scolding. 

"I must disagree," he replied, his grin still prevailing. 

Giving him a dry look she opened her mouth to answer, but was prevented by the ringing of the phone. Both elf and woman froze in surprise to the sound of that and neither moved for a moment. It rang again and Irulan blinked, then reached up and brought it closer for inspection. "Excuse me," she said then and not feeling comfortable with Legolas being in earshot, stood up to leave. She did not see the hard expression of dismay that overcame his features momentarily as he stood up during her departure while his gaze followed her towards the exit of the saloon that led to a hallway. 

"Hello?"

"Hello? Hello? What is going on?! WHERE on earth are you?!" 

"Calm down, Anne," she sighed, glancing back at the table where Legolas sat in a statuesque manner. 

A sound of relief came. And a moment later: "Damn it, Irulan, I thought you were kidnapped or something!"

"In a way, I was," she said, combing her fingers through her hair.

"WHAT?!"

"Stop yelling, I can hear you just fine." She sighed again. "Legolas had a surprise for me. So......we kind of.......we are.........we are in Rome," she finished hastily. 

The silence that followed was not good. "In Rome?" Anne said finally and the awe in her voice was hard to miss (Anne was rather good in pretense. She knew that Legolas had been planning something of that nature, but of course this information should never come out into the sunlight). Irulan bit her lip as she guessed what Anne must be thinking. And true to her guess, the next comment was dripping with sly amusement: "Oh......well.......what a drastic change, Irulan!" Irulan closed her eyes at the chuckle and felt irritation rising in her. 

"What change?!" she said dryly. 

"What change? Er.....the change from hate to love, of course!"

"What the hell are you saying?!" Irulan hissed, glancing back at the table and noticing that Legolas was not looking at her anymore, but seemed to be focused on his wine glass. "He dragged me here!"

"Ah of course," was the slick answer. "I am sure that you were having a horrible time before I called." 

"Look......what do you want?"

"Don't be stupid," Anne said curtly. "I was worried. But........not anymore, my friend!"

"Anne...stop it!"

"Aw Irulan, come on! At least you can be brave and face it." At her lack of response, she continued: "So....it took you surprisingly little time to go from hate and dislike to such intimacy! See....all that babbling about his arrogance and his rudeness was needless, after all."

The flame of anger engulfed her so fast, that she did not even feel its coming. Probably because Anne was so damn right. A fury exploded in Irulan and must have been evident enough to be picked up by the other woman, who suddenly hesitated. "I'm not mocking you," she said hastily. "Not at all, Irulan. I am only happy that-"

"Sure you are, Anne." 'Frosty' would not suffice to describe her voice. 

A momentary silence. "Irulan, come on! I was only joking."

"But you were right, my friend," she hissed, the anger grasping her heart and squeezing with merciless force.

"No! It was a stupid joke, I'm sorry."

"So am I, Anne. Sorry that I did not strangle you when I had the chance!"

"Eh.....Irulan?"

"Goodbye!"

She turned off the phone, fuming with fury. 'What the hell am I doing?!' she thought with disbelief and glanced at the table again. 'Are you STUPID, Irulan?! Are you insane?! An ELF?! Not to mention, a member of the damn CIRCLE?! Not to mention a man whose actions towards you are highly doubtful?!' she pinched the bridge of her nose, battling the sudden awakening and only succeeded many, many moments later. Though the fire died, the heat was left behind as a painful reminder. 

Legolas stood up when she arrived and seated himself only after she dropped into her chair. The tenseness was incredible between them and he did not know how to ask it. For she seemed rather upset at the moment. Which, of course, was nothing compared to how upset HE was feeling. 

"Ill news, Irulan?" he said finally, observing her state. 

"No," she said curtly, diverting her gaze and crossing her arms on her chest. "It is late. Can we leave?"

The cool tone was very different from her voice just minutes ago. Right at that moment the phone rang again and Irulan flinched while Legolas felt himself tensing, to his own amazement. They locked eyes for a moment, then she picked it up and plugging the earphone to her ear, answered the call. "Hello?" she said with an annoyed sigh, thinking that Anne seriously needed to learn how to stop when told to.

He cast his gaze downwards to conceal his irritation. If she were not using those damn earplugs and accursed background music and murmur in this place was not so loud, he could pick out the conversation! 'Only because it would serve me as an advantage to know,' he told himself stubbornly. 

"Look.....alright. No....it's okay," Irulan said, massaging her face. She was softening! Legolas felt a wave of frustration hit him out of nowhere at that. 

"And how come you did not call earlier then?" was her hissed remark that spoke of open accusation. This woman was more than fit for the kill! She looked away in annoyance and met his gaze. Suddenly feeling uncomfortable of talking under such a stare and not able to leave at this point, she hastily said "Alright, yes. I understand." A moment of silence. "It's alright. Yes yes.....I love you too. Bye." 

Irulan turned the phone off and placed it on the table again. She sighed loudly and managed a nervous laugh. "Sorry. Some people simply won't let go!"

Her smile froze at the elf's expression that spoke of something.......well....it was hard to say exactly what....but it was dangerous, that's for sure. He looked at her for so long, the woman shifted on her seat with discomfort, the second time feeling irrational fear towards him. "Is something the matter?" she said finally with unease. 

Legolas just kept looking at her with that cold glare for another moment. "Why did you say you love him?" he said slowly between clenched teeth. 

Irulan merely blinked in reply and for a moment seriously did not understand his meaning. "Him?" she said then, feeling stupefied. 

"David," was the terribly terse reply. Finally understanding his question, she opened her mouth, but he cut in: "Why did you say that, when you don't?"

"Alright," she began, in an effort to set the record straight: "First of all.....I DO love David. And secondly, the call-"

"You do NOT!" he interrupted and she flinched at the tone of his voice. Certainly this could not be the same man who was laughing with delight a moment ago! A tense silence set in between them as they stared at each other stubbornly. 

"I said I DO," she growled. 

An expression of sudden amusement came over his features then. "You call that love, Irulan?"

Irulan tore her gaze away and grasped the napkin in an effort to ease her kindling temper. "Do not assume to know me," she continued blankly. "You know nothing about me."

"I know enough to see that you are eager to convince yourself of such a thing."

"Judge as you will, Legolas," was her cold answer. "It does not change the truth. And the truth is....my affairs are none of your business." 

Legolas closed his eyes at the sudden assault of dread that landed on his stomach. He had made a terrible mistake. Wise hunter indeed! Although he knew how she hardened at the face of rough treatment, he had given in to his sentiments and acted purely……purely……He swallowed hard, not daring to finish that sentence as his fingers grasped the fork with such force that his knuckles whitened and it even bent beneath his elven strength. Though at the moment he was not aware of it. 

"I wish to go," Irulan said again.

He looked up at her, his emotions whirling as he struggled for his face to remain blank. "Please let us stay a while longer," he said then, and it came with effort indeed. She looked away sharply. "I am sorry. Forgive my behavior."

Irulan pursed her lips. "No need to apologize, Legolas. It is not too different from what I have seen in other men, before."

That just hit him like a slap in the face. And true enough, he had been acting exactly like a Man! He looked at her for a moment, unable to find the words to utter, then managed to say "I deserved that. And more." She refused to look back at him, but he continued: "I am not used to spending such fabulous time in the company of a woman. I was.....angry that it was disrupted by another."

Still she did not answer and Legolas looked down to see the bent fork in his grasp. He swiftly fixed it –more or less, anyway-, then left it aside. "Irulan," he said gently and though that voice had made many hearts falter and give in, this one looked very unaffected by it, "forgive me. Even in millennia it is not possible not to falter and fail. It was a mistake I regret deeply." 

He reached out and touched her hand, but she pulled it back and finally looked up to meet his eyes. "David has called," she said with a low voice. "Remember?"

The pain of that fact doubled instantly and the battle kindled anew. He was not....he would never admit that he felt.........

Legolas shook himself awake from the trance. "We can not go back," he said then, calmer, and none who saw him at the moment would have guessed the torment he was going through. "The jet will not be ready until tomorrow."

Her eyes widened with that. "What?!" A tense moment passed. "W-what.....what on earth are we...going to do till tomorrow?!"

"I reserved rooms for our stay," Legolas said a moment later, regretting the fact that he did not get the chance to break it to her in a better manner and with better timing. "I did not want you to tire too much."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, eager to calm down. "You could have asked me," she seethed, feeling like crying. She was in a foreign country, with no money, no passport (the damn elf seemed to have hers!), no way of going home and even no damn clothes! She stood up abruptly and very much like the garden scene, strode out with large steps. The elf, baffled at that, remained seated for a moment or two, then swiftly rose and paced after her. He did not wait to pay a check – the management knew him well enough and would put it on his usual credit card. 

Irulan rushed out the doors and then stood there, in a crowded street, in a city unknown to her, at nighttime. 'Very nice, Irulan. What now?' Legolas appeared beside her then and she turned away from him, afraid to show the desperation in her that was seeking some sort of release. 

He was silent for a moment, not sure how to react as his battle kept on raging. Then said with a cautious voice: "The hotel is not too far." She did not look up and that frustrated him. And when was the last time he had felt frustration of this sort? "Please, Irulan," he tried again, a part of him overly amazed that he was in this situation with a woman, "let us go. You look in need of rest."

A silence hung between them as the irreversible tears were too much to press down and silently glided down her cheek. She hastily wiped them away, feeling even more helpless now and more than afraid that he would see her weakness. It was an underestimation of elves, for Legolas was very well aware of her state, even though her expression was hidden from him. And finally, under the threat of such overwhelming sensations, at the risk of losing what he had gained so dearly, Legolas decided to face the truth. Both inwardly and from the outside. It was pointless to run, anyway. Such things always caught up with you, sooner or later. "I was jealous," he said with a low voice, looking at her face that remained turned away from him. "Never before have I felt it to such degree," he added with a whisper then, the shock and awe of it evident in his voice. And it was true to the last word. 

Irulan stilled in surprise. Now why on earth did that confession make her feel.......so........glad? She blinked, everything else forgotten for the moment, and concentrated on that thought. Indeed, she felt glad at it! And oddly relieved. Comforted, in a way. Also......VERY tempted to forgive and give in. She swallowed at the realization of that and shivered slightly. 'Please God,' she prayed silently, 'do not make me fall for this elf! Please!' 

His hand found her shoulder and she turned her profile towards him, not daring to look into his eyes. "It is alright. I am only.....a little......upset. About other things, Legolas."

Her breath caught when he placed his fingers underneath her chin and turned her face, forcing her to lock eyes with him. She stared unwillingly, awed how this could be the very same man whom she had met at the castle that day and who had been more than rude to her. A long moment passed and he did not give indication of any feeling as he gazed down at her. Nor did he seem to care about the current crowd moving around them steadily. Irulan remained silent, not sure what to do. "Do not lie for me," he said finally and dropped his hand, ceasing the touch. A part of her downright resented that. "Come," he said gently then, grasping her arm and guiding her away. He did not speak during the walk, and neither did she. It felt good to be guided. To be taken care of. To be freed of frustrating decisions. Very unlike New York. Very unlike the century. Very unlike a modern woman like Irulan. But.......good nevertheless.

***


	8. The Gust That Fills Mighty Sails

And here we continue. The journey of how strong can become weak; how ice can become fire; how need can become longing. Or rather, my version of it. 

All the questions will be answered in due time. I will try to answer some by personal mails when I can. Cause I don't want to bore everyone with needlessly long author notes. 

For everyone who has supported me so kindly to his point – thank you. For everyone who has reviewed and criticized – I am grateful, to say the least. For everyone who is not bored by long and slow chapters – we have that in common! To everyone who will ask for updates – give me a week and your wish shall come true.

Ah…..Rome in autumn! To quote Legolas in The Glass Sandal….. "Elf or Man, hobbit or dwarf – the heart rules over us all."

When they arrived at the hotel, Legolas was overly upset and Irulan was miraculously better, once again having regained her spirits sooner than most. He avoided speaking with her, or even looking at her, and normally that should be a good thing. But currently she thought it a bit odd. Once more she felt concern that he felt dislike for her. Not to mention, frustration with the realization that it actually mattered! 'I am getting way too soft,' she thought in dismay. It did nothing to change her sentiments. 

The elf, on the other hand, only barely having survived the bombardment of all those sharp sentiments and realizations, was still in a daze from the effect. And along with those, felt a great loss of self-confidence at the recent lack of control he had performed. Not only had he felt jealous -and that was bad enough- he had even felt it to a degree that had forced him to unbelievably rude actions. Jealousy was not new to him. Though seldom and certainly with much less rage, he had experienced it before. But the intensity of it and the way he had acted with the anger of it was completely new. Not to mention, a disgrace to the elf that he was. As any other elf would, he felt a deep sinful regret to have breached the precious process of courting. Forget about courting, he had acted downright terrible! 

Eager to isolate himself and gain some privacy to explore his thoughts and sentiments to the fullest, he followed the hotel manager (who had personally wished to welcome Heath Greenleaf) to the floor that held the suites reserved for them. After a painfully long and rather needless welcome speech the man bid them goodnight and left silently. He remained standing, his gaze on the carpet, listening to his departure. Irulan who, to his deft surprise, seemed battered but rather improved, remained the same, a few steps away from him. 

He should say something. Or at least continue with the game. But all desire to do so had disappeared and for a first in many years, Legolas felt downright tired and old. A few more moments, and he shifted on his feet, then said "Good night, Irulan. I will see you in the morning," without looking at her, and bowing ever so slightly in her direction, began to walk towards the door. 

Irulan watched with bafflement for a moment, then hastily said "Wait!" The man stopped in mid-step, his back turned to her and she added "Are you going to leave me alone?"

When he slowly turned around, surprise was laced in his expression. "Of course," he said, as if trying to persuade her that he meant to respect her privacy. 

Irulan, not certain why she felt so anxious but unable to ignore her state, stammered: "Well......I....I mean.....this place is foreign to me."

Legolas blinked, trying to gather his thoughts, which seemed in a rather chaotic array at the moment. "My room is next to yours. And you can call the staff for any of your needs. They speak English well," he said slowly, trying to read her meaning. 

"Yes but," she shifted on her feet, fidgeting with her shirt, "but I mean......I thought we could.....talk some more."

His surprise only deepened at that. Not to mention his confusion. He turned fully to her, looking for a long moment before he replied. "We can talk tomorrow. You seem tired."

"Are you?"

"I rarely feel so," he said slowly, failing to understand this change of events. 

"Well.....," she began again, at this point feeling rather foolish, "this does not seem very.....courteous of you." His eyebrows rose in a perfect arch as he remained expectant of her continuation. "I mean.....I feel a little......dropped like some sack." Irulan almost winced at the way that sounded. 

Another staring duel prevailed. Then he slowly walked towards her, halting at a comfortable distance. "You know that would never be my intention," was his cautious comment. 

Irulan bit her lower lip and looked around the gigantic room. "Alright," she said. "I just want to make sure that......we do not....part with ill feelings again."

Legolas, rather astonished and amazed at her behavior, looked at her for a long moment before he answered? "That can never be the case on my behalf. Though I hope the same for you."

She shrugged and nodded, feeling somewhat embarrassed to look at him. Expecting him to leave, she waited. Only instead of leaving, he walked up to her and stood looking down at her. And unwilling as it was, Irulan glanced up, then. "You are not tired?" he said gently, his mind urging him to leave and sort out his inner conflicts first, but his heart aching to stay with her. 

Irulan looked away and shifted on her feet and afterwards shook her head deftly. "Not terribly so," she said, inspecting her boots again. It was amazing that she had wished never to see him again just half an hour ago, and now didn't want his departure. "But it's alright. I mean we can retire and-"

"Would you join me for an evening stroll?" he cut in, eager to give in to his heart instead of his mind. "I can come by in an hour."

Irulan smiled and met his gaze. 'We must look so damn ridiculous,' she thought with amusement. 'Some elf and some Aragorn's heir!' Her smile widened a little further. "That sounds nice."

Legolas smiled back, feeling incredibly torn and yet happy. He ignored the urge to leave for the night. He wanted to stay. He wanted to be with her. What that meant, was not important at the moment. No doubt that it was wrong. Most certainly it was a mistake. And yet.....he was so tired of being right and controlled anyway. Irulan waited for him to leave, but he did not. A silence hung between them as he looked down at her and feel a desire for her presence that he had not felt for anyone, before. It was new and fresh. Not exploited, not over-experienced and used up like all his other feelings. He reached out and glided his fingers through her long hair, swallowing softly with the incredible effect that had on him. Her look spoke of surprise and a slight unease at the unexpected action. "I like your hair," he said with a hoarse voice, to make the strange seem more acceptable. 

She swallowed too, clasping her hands in front of her and feeling a strange excitement grasping her spirit. The thought that she had been convinced to hate this man just days ago seemed to have no weight to it at all, any longer. It sounded almost fictional. She smiled a nervous smile, her eyes not resting on his deliberately. 

Legolas sighed and with a mighty effort, managed to step back. He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes in an attempt to clear his thoughts and to cool the fire that seemed to claim his mind. "In an hour, then," he said finally and left rather quickly so that he would not stay and engage in something overly dangerous. 

Only after he had left and pulled the door behind him did Irulan dare a ragged breath and walked to sit on the bed. "This is not right. This is not right," she said. Then she repeated it some more. And alas, it was true! It was simply not right. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and to be honest, she looked terrible. Her clothes were all rumpled (not to mention overly casual). Her face was blanched with the lack of make-up and color. Her hair was in tangles. But more than that, there was an expression in her eyes that was downright dangerous. Something that should not be there. 

She turned away from it. "You are better than this!" she said, her voice wavering though the words seemed tough. "You are stronger than this! Pull yourself together!"

She waited a few more moments, eager to feel convinced. But the feeling did not come. Sighing, she went to the bathroom to take a shower. On the way she turned away from every mirror she encountered. 

****

"You amaze me! You are a king of kings, and yet, another sits on the throne of YOUR heart," he said, his smile evident on his face. 

"Ah!" the man said, clasping his hands behind his back as a breeze ruffled his dark hair and threw it over his shoulders. There was a glimmer of pride in his eyes as he watched Arwen who could be seen in the courtyard below the tower he was standing on. "I told you that I was blessed, Legolas!"

He laughed at that, shaking his head and walking up to stand beside him to look at the view. Another silence issued between them and it was comfortable and welcome. "Another day is setting," he said then and Legolas turned to look at his profile that was embedded with the orange glow of the setting sun. Aragorn sighed deeply, squinting his eyes. "One more day I have aged. And yet, you have aged none."

The elf cast his eyes down, not wishing to see the wrinkles and soft lines that had begun to emerge in the face of his friend. No matter how many times he witnessed it, aging was a strange and unsettling thing. Like a whisper, foreboding that certain end to mortals. "My spirit has aged this day," was his cautious reply. 

Aragorn laughed once more, though this one had a sad edge to it. "In that case, you are the one at loss, old friend, for my spirit is as old as it was the day I met you!"

"As are your wits, Estel," was the smug comment. 

Suddenly the man turned to him, a serious expression on his face. "What will happen to Arwen after I die, Legolas?" The question hit the elf like a slap in the face and he remained baffled by it, unable to come up with an answer. "What will happen to my children? And to their children?" Aragorn swallowed softly, the alarm in his blue-green eyes not a common sight. "What will happen to my kind?" he added with a whisper. 

Many moments passed and Legolas wished that the king would turn away and free him from the torture of that gaze. "Your line will live and prosper," he said finally, hoping that it will suffice. 

Aragorn shook his head. "I fear for Man. Without the guidance of the Eldar, what will we be?"

"Only the Valar know, Estel," Legolas said softly, in an effort to soothe the spirits of his friend. 

Finally the man DID turn away and the elf sighed in relief. "I think the Valar don't care!" was his somewhat bitter comment. Legolas merely swallowed and looked out to the view again, not wishing to meet the gaze of the other once more. "Neither do the Firstborn." Even then, he did not turn to glance at the King, as his unease increased even further. "And the worst part is.......I can not blame them."

"We DO care," Legolas replied finally, crossing his arms on his chest. "Our time has come to an end, Aragorn. It is the natural way of things."

A long silence came as both stood side by side, stances alike, their hands on the railing, their faces washed in the blood of the dying sun. "My kind will fail, Legolas," whispered the King suddenly and there was clear terror in his usually calm voice. 

"We can not know such things, Estel," the elf tried gently. 

"My kind will fail," he whispered again, swallowing hard and leaning on the railing to look down at Arwen who had stopped smelling the flowers and was looking up to him. Her perfect beauty had not changed at all. Or perhaps grown even more. "I know this as I know that we stand here and talk this moment, mellon."

Legolas did not reply this time and chose to purse his lips, gazing into the orange fluid that had splashed across the sky. "Perhaps it is not your kind…but the world that will fail," he whispered almost inaudibly. 

Aragorn took a deep breath and turned his back to the scenery and leaning back on the railing, locked eyes with Legolas, whose majestic beauty was always astonishing to him. Especially in a setting like this - when nature was only adding to its effect. "Look at us! Now I know for certain that we ARE getting old!" he said finally with a sly grin. 

Legolas shot back an aloof look, his lips curved slightly and his arms crossed on his chest. "Speak for yourself, Ranger!"

The other chuckled, shaking his head. "Such desperation does not become us, Legolas!" he said, bouncing off the railing and clasping his friend's shoulder who, at the sight of Aragorn's returning joy felt already much better, himself. "Why…we did what all believed to be impossible. Against all odds."

"Against all odds and a dwarf!" sighed Legolas with mock desperation. 

"Ah yes!" laughed Aragorn, embracing his shoulder and guiding him slowly indoors. "How is Gimli these days?"

"Grumpy, filthy and arrogant."

The man's hearty laughter bounced off the walls that surrounded them and continued for many moments at the rather annoyed expression of the elf, who shook his head with mock frustration and looked ahead. "Then he must be exceptionally well! He will arrive tomorrow. I look forward to see him again!"

A sound erupted from Legolas that was suspiciously similar to a moan. The king looked around with pure surprise and amusement on his features. "A favor I ask of you," Legolas said suddenly and turned to lock eyes with him. His eyes were utterly serious when he spoke again: "Under no circumstances, at no time, for no reason and absolutely NEVER ask about Lady Galadriel!" When Aragorn's brows rose only further to that, his gaze not shifting, the elf added dryly: "He talks for so long on the matter, I envy mortality."

And then there was only laughter in the Hall of the King for a long, long time. 

****

That particular hour felt like a decade. So many things happened and erupted and died and kindled and faded in him, soon Legolas lost track of things. He only knew that something in him was changing and that Irulan was the reason for it. It could not be something good, for with the certain, sharp pleasure came unparalleled pain. Or to put it better – both pain and pleasure came with immense force onto him, like a flock of hungry, bleak birds. His shell that he had built brick by brick with so much effort and so much strain, it seems, was cracked and breaking. 

All because of a mortal woman. 

He massaged his face again. 'Live millennia in this world, see everything, do anything, try all and finally end up realizing that you are as ignorant as the first day you came to it!' he thought bitterly. 

He sighed and tried to gather his thoughts once more. Though at this point it was an useless effort. He was attracted to her, that much was certain. 'Maybe because I mentally put myself too far into this wager,' he thought momentarily. It was possible. But for an elf of his character and experience, not very probable. So he crossed that option out. He was attracted to her. 'Fine. There is nothing wrong with that. She IS an attractive woman,' was the second thought. For several reasons, she really was. And yes, there was nothing absurd about that. Only.....she happened to be a mortal. Not to mention, Aragorn's heir with a prominent right in Circle. Let's nor forget – one who held the opposite view to his in the upcoming meeting. And last but not least – she happened to be part of a wager that HE himself, willingly had engaged in. 

He cupped his chin, pursing his lips. 'I am attracted to the only woman I can not have. Fabulous!' 

Those were all arguments of his mind. Now his heart..........

His heart was an entirely different matter. 

His heart cared nothing for words. It was only interested in the way she became so childish when she was excited. In the warm, intoxicating look on her face when she was concerned or sad. In the way she listened with rapt attention when he spoke. In her flaring temper and her sudden calmness. In the way she pushed him away so suddenly and then allowed his presence in her warm circle. 

Legolas groaned and closed his eyes. This was not good, NOT good at all!

Why, if he continued in that direction of thought, one might actually come to the conclusion that........

The elf instantly opened his eyes and jumped to his feet. Where that thought was going, was not a road he meant to follow. Not today. Not ever. 

'All is still as it should be,' he told himself, eager to still his frantic heart. 'Whether I enjoy it or not does not change the outcome – I shall win in the end. So I might as well let go and enjoy it.' As miraculous as it was, that made a lot of sense. Actually it made no sense at all, but in his desire to be with her with a clear conscience, Legolas just found logic in his reasoning. 

And let it be known that when it comes to the ways of the heart, weakness was as merciless a shackle on elves as it was on Man. 

So he showered, dressed and left his room, leaving his conscience behind. For the remainder of this wager he would just do his duty as a courter. There was nothing wrong with enjoying your job. It was only normal for him to court her to the fullest, so that she would not refuse him at his point, was it not? Yes, it was! With a rather relieving conclusion in the matter, he strode through the corridor, happy that he would answer no more to his mind and only deal with his heart. 

It never occurred to him what would happen once his heart was touched and enflamed. It never occurred to him what the outcome would be once he allowed himself the freedom to feel and enjoy to the fullest. 

It never occurs to anyone, anyway. 

*****

Irulan jumped with the knock on her door. She felt the rush of her sentiments like the rush of blood to her brain and hesitated for a moment to let it settle in. Then she took a deep breath, pushed up her chin and called out: "Come in."

It was him of course. She rose with a smile and he walked in slowly, his gaze as penetrating as ever. "For you," he said when he finally stood in front of her and held out the bag in his hand. She blinked with surprise, then cautiously took it from him. It seemed to contain some clothes. She looked up at him with arched eyebrows. 

"I acquired it from one of the stores in the hotel. It seems to be your size." When she seemed indecisive in accepting such a thing, he added "Your clothes need cleaning. And it is somewhat cooler now." 

Still she remained hesitant and looked at his same, coarse brown-green sweater. "We do not feel temperature changes as much, Irulan. Please," he said softly, "surely it would be no great sacrifice for you to accept such a little thing?"

She nodded, still a little uneasy. Irulan had never liked accepting presents from her boyfriends. It had made her feel.....indebted. 'Legolas is not your boyfriend, you fool!' a voice exclaimed in her head suddenly and she hastily strode into the bathroom, in an effort to silence it. She pulled out several articles, tried them on and decided on the black cropped pants, the white shirt and the loose black mesh sweater over it. She loosely braided her still somewhat damp hair, and taking one last look at the mirror, stepped out. 

Legolas was waiting with his hands clasped behind his back and upon her entrance, smiled and inspected her with a wandering gaze. "Almost perfect," he said softly, his smile widening. 

"Almost?" was her amused reply. 

He walked up to her and for no apparent reason her heart broke into a gallop. "Almost," he said and Irulan stopped breathing when he stood behind her and his hand reached out to unmake the braid. To her it seemed several minutes, though in reality it was perhaps only one. And to be honest, still far too long to undo such a loose braid. But Legolas was too engulfed in the feeling of it and took all the time in the world to glide his fingers again and again through the length of it. She did not react or walk away and that was an incredible accomplishment on his behalf. 

He walked around to stand before her and once again reached out to comb his fingers through her strands and bring some of it over her shoulder to the front. Irulan only swallowed and remained still and he smiled at her evident struggle. Would he dare to go further? Oh yes, he would. Finally his right hand reached up and very gently tucked the hair behind her ear, but instead of departing, slowly followed the rim of it, towards her jawline as Legolas locked eyes with a rather uneasy Irulan and did not break the gaze until his touch rested on her chin. 

"Perfect," he said finally with a whisper. They did not move and a moment passed. Then another. It was the first time he felt the urge to kiss her – though it certainly would not be the last time. And the urge itself was not a burning or sudden drive. It was warm, yes, but the warmth was gentle and rather slow and lazy. Not a slap in the face like his other emotions about her, but a tender and new longing. Nevertheless one he had no intentions of resisting. He would have fulfilled it for certain, for the moment in no interest of the consequences, but Irulan broke into a smile and moved away. Legolas was certain that a vacuum of fierce intensity had suddenly emerged between them, so strangely frustrating and unnatural was its effect. "Thank you," she said a little nervous and strode to her bed to pick up her phone. 

He swallowed hard just at the sight of that thing, but took a deep breath and avoided thought about it. "Let us go, then," was his softer comment and she nodded, following him to the door. 

***

They stepped into the rather crowded streets of Rome that seemed to be very vivid and alive, although it was the later hours of the day. It was a little cooler indeed, since the season was autumn. Legolas once again placed his hand on her lower back and guided her through a long street that resembled a marketplace with all sorts of stands. It was as colorful and vibrant as any place could be and they stopped to check out several items. Like many other languages, Legolas spoke Italian very fluently. Even many ancient languages now lost or forgotten were rather vivid in his elven memory. 

He continued his tale of old Rome and it was hard to determine which one enjoyed it more. He even pointed out some buildings where in ancient times other estates had been and where he had resided or met this or that person. Old Rome was flickering before his eyes, as real as the current one and to his amazement, gone was the sting of sadness that usually came with such recollections. For the first time, he did not fee longing with the remembrance of past days. Or better said, for the first time, his current day was more preferable to experience and the past was only a captivating tale. 

And captivating it was indeed! Irulan felt so entranced by his recollections and the way he chose to share them, that she almost believed to be there with him. She had always thought that such a conversation with an elf would be amazing. But this surpassed her expectations - it was simply fantastic to see the world from his eyes. No book could equal it. No painting could challenge it. No movie could capture it. The eyes of an elf were many times beyond any of those tools. 

She walked with him and often looked up at his visage that held either a small smile at some fond memory, or a slight frown indicating an effort to recall, or just a blank gaze that spoke of his spirits partly strolling in those days once more. And during that walk in the dimly lit and rather crowded streets of Italy, Irulan began to feel something that she could only describe as awe and infatuation for Legolas. Not because he was handsome. Or rich. Or attractive. Or alluring. Because he was a creature that had seen and lived all the things she had read about in the eerie hours of the night, her eyes watering with tiredness, her mind reeling with the curiosity and excitement of it. It resembled the sensation one would feel to a man of great importance and impressive skill. And it changed many things in her, never to be reversed again. She had often felt intrigue for Legolas the elf. But tonight, having his company, she felt far more than intrigue - her sentiments bordered on admiration. 

"Don't you believe me?" he said suddenly with a small smile and Irulan woke up, hastily glancing away. 

"Of course I do!" she said a moment later. 

"Then I must have misread the expression on your face," he prodded with amusement. 

"You must have," sighed Irulan. 

A short silence passed. "If so, correct me, Irulan," he said finally, tempted by her secrecy. "What were you thinking a moment ago?"

She did not answer immediately. Many moments later though, as someone who never had had difficulty in expressing her feelings of praise and admiration towards a person, said softly "I was thinking that you are as amazing as any being can be, Legolas. I am grateful for your company." 

It was certainly not what he expected and his heart made a flip at her words. The compliment was not an overly overwhelming one. He had heard far more elaborate ones, countless times before and coming from some very impressive people, too. But none of those had caused the pride and joy in him that her recent words did. Unable to look away from her profile, he walked in pace due to some miracle and only a long moment later managed to say "Is that your true belief?"

Irulan looked up at him, surprised. "Of course it is," she said with a slow, widening smile. "Don't you believe me?" she added slyly, repeating his words. A moment later she looked away again, unable to hold his deep blue gaze, and sighed once more. "I envy you. All I have dreamed of, you have seen and done. I wish I had been there with you," she mumbled, lost in thought. 

"I wish you were, too," came his low reply a moment later and suddenly Irulan felt unease at his tone. It helped to bring her back to reality. A reality in which she simply could not allow herself to drift into any sentiments with this elf. 

"I think," she said then more heartily and giving him only a brief glance, "having seen so much, you must think all of us humans so predictable, alike and boring!" It was followed by a grin that spoke of no offense about such a natural deduction. 

A surprisingly long time passed before Legolas halted and Irulan halted with him, surprised at the sudden stop and looked up to find him gazing down at her. "Not all," he said and she swallowed softly at the intensity of it. It took all her willpower to tear her gaze away and immediately after it Irulan shifted on her feet, absent-mindedly observing the happenings around her, hoping that he would break the dense atmosphere that had set on them once more. 

Legolas had no such intentions. He had no intentions for anything, to be exact. He had let go of his mind for tonight and the reign of his sentiments had been extremely pleasurable, to say the least. "What would it take to make you mine?" he said with a low voice and Irulan stilled, certain that she had misheard him. She literally gulped and mentally crossed her fingers in hope that indeed she HAD misheard him. "What would I need to do for you to prefer me instead of.....David?" he said then, the last word reluctant. 

So she had not misheard him! Irulan almost blanched at the thought. Though it was not a shock that Legolas had intentions of this nature -he had made it rather clear to her before- it felt strangely overwhelming when said in such an unrestrained manner. She shifted again, afraid that if he persisted she would begin to blush once more, and refused to look up, still not wise of any answer. He was too close -right before her actually- but she could not step back since it a move like that would look ridiculous. "Ask me of anything, Irulan," he whispered, his fingers finding her cheek.

Irulan barely suppressed a moan of frustration and pursed her lips, still not gazing up at him while he was looking at her with something that had almost solid force to it. "You do not love me," she managed to choke out finally, not really aware of her words but anxious to say something to break the spell. 

Legolas blinked in surprise and his fingers froze for a moment. Only for a moment though, then his mind resumed the slow churn that it had been going through. Much later he would look back at the moment and realize that the answer that had actually formed in his brain had been "I do." Not yet, though. Too far gone in his solitary bitterness he was to discover such sentiments so easily. For now, he only felt overly excited by her presence and his touch on her cheek. "What I feel is no less worthy," he said instead. Irulan's sole reply was a broken smile. "You shall never feel the difference," he pressed on, not realizing that he was actually crossing the borders of his wager and beginning to stride into the territory of personal demands, at this point. The border between these two lands was getting blurrier by the moment, but this, neither, was to the elf's knowledge. 

'Indeed!' thought Irulan, more amazed and impressed by his honesty than he would ever guess her to be. How wise it would be to accept. No doubt that he would treat her with utmost care and dedication during their entire time together - as he had said, 'more and better than any Man'. Who had loved her really, anyway? Whom had she loved in reality? Affairs of the times were not based on love anymore. Too rare it was. Almost a fable. A myth that spoke of grand feelings and thoughts. A great word, so overused and exploited, that it meant none of those magnificent things any longer. True love was too far a shot, too big an expectation. Irulan would feel distinguished if she ever stumbled upon mutual respect, liking and sharing. 

"I can not," she said stubbornly more to herself than to him. And at that moment she realized that she did not fear Legolas. Never had. All the fear she had perceived this entire time....was fear of herself. Of what she was tempted to feel. And do. And become. 

He swallowed hard in frustration and dropped his hand, still not moving or looking away from her. "Perhaps it is painful for you to hear, Irulan," he said cautiously, "but David does not love you, either."

She pursed her lips and looked away again, refusing to answer. "Look at me," he said. When she complied unwillingly he smiled and reached up again, tugging her hair behind her ear once more. "It is not David who is with you now. It is I," he concluded, his eyes growing grave again. 

"You ask for too much, Legolas," she said finally with dismay. It was only true! It had been only a day and already his demand on her was exhausting. 

His smile showed slight amusement. "I always have."

She nodded matter-of-factly. Legolas the elf, no doubt, was not a man limited with the walls that held others. "Do you not feel discomfort at the fact that I hold no feelings for you?" she said finally, elven perception of things a matter of curiosity for her. 

"You will, in time," he said and it did not sound arrogant or suggestive, but rather natural. 

"How do you know that?" she said incredulously. 

He took a deep breath and for the first time looked around the street, and that action thankfully lifted some of the dense atmosphere. "I can give all you ask for," he said simply. 

"Legolas," she said, and the astonishment in her voice made him look down at her once more, "do you think that THAT is enough to invoke love?" 

He met her surprised gaze and held it for a moment before he replied: "Such is my experience," he said cautiously. 

Irulan's eyebrows rose even higher and she broke into chuckles, though it had no amusement, but an odd tinge of sadness to it. She shook her head as he watched her with a slight frown, eager to understand her mind. "You are wrong," she said finally. And a moment later, with a sad sigh, again: "You are wrong." Legolas did not know what to say and thankfully did not have to think for too long, as she looked up and locked eyes with him. She cocked her head, observing him for a moment and he felt intrigued to know what she was thinking. "Do not look for such company. It is a sad thing," she said finally. 

"Pray explain," he said a long moment later, confused and excited at being confused. 

Irulan sighed again as if she did not know how to, her gaze wandering in the street. "Tell me," she began carefully, though there was a certain demand in her voice, "what is the difference between you and all other elves?" 

He blinked in surprise and frowned somewhat deeper. Irulan observed his confusion in amusement, then continued: "You are beautiful," she said, her gaze wandering over his features and not seeing the light that sparked in his eyes at her words. "Graceful. Elegant. Strong. But......." with that, she locked eyes with him once more, "....so are all elves." A small smile displayed on her lips as he shifted slightly, agreeing with her comment but not liking the disappointment that rose in him at his rather dismissive placement with all others. "It can not be your riches that distinguish you," she continued, "for all Firtsborn have it to this or that amount. Wisdom? Experience? Kindness?" She shook her head as he listened on with rapt interest. "Common in all your kind, Legolas."

Irulan cocked her head, narrowing her eyes. "Neither is it your.....overwhelming....treatment of me," she said, and this time she knew he was somewhat disappointed for he shortly glanced away. "For if I were here with Haldir....or any other elf......would they not treat me just as graciously?" He clenched his jaws, a confusion coming onto his mind and claiming it. It was only true. Then why the hurt? He nodded in confirmation, his eyes cast downwards. "If someone loves you for these reasons and these alone, it is not YOU she loves, Legolas," she said then, trying to be gentler. 

An eternity seemed to pass as the truth and shock of her words sank in on his spirit. Whoever had said that time and experience makes one wise, was a fool. A shallow, babbling fool who, engulfed in his own arrogance, had failed to see the ways of the world around him. He was no Legolas at that moment. No wise elf. No Circle member. No hero of the Fellowship. No guide of humanity. He was a fool. That and that alone. 

A bitterness engulfed his spirit with the realization of that and as amazing as it was, the solitude that he had felt many, many times in his long life gathered into one, big, bleak mass and descended on him like a lethal bolt of thunder. "Then none have loved me," he whispered, not aware that he was saying the words out loud and thinking that they were only ringing in his mind. "And no one ever will." The sadness that seemed to grip his heart was unbelievable in its force and for a moment, he felt breathless at the impact of it. His whole spirit burned with the tremor that meteor had caused on his planet. All life here would cease, now that such smoke and fire had arrived!.... 

He swallowed hard. Then again. And blinked in an attempt to suppress the tears that, after who knows how many millennia, had miraculously found their way to his eyes once more. Partly astonished, partly shocked, greatly shaken and a little lost, he blinked again, trying to remember the current day, date, company and location. 

He was absolutely certain that he would have never remembered it again. That he would have been doomed to madness and loss of mind, if Irulan had not spoken again. If not for her voice and her words, certainly he would have been lost beyond rescue. "And yet.....it is no other elf whose company I chose. I chose yours, Legolas," she said suddenly and Legolas was too bewildered to analyze it, but her voice had the alarmed eagerness to wake him from that dangerous slumber he seemed to be tempted to delve into. 

And wake him up, it did. He blinked again and alas, there was the world once more. It was Rome. It was nighttime. The heart of the city. A dim street. It was this time and this place. Though none of these were his first perception. His very first perception was the sight of Irulan who was looking up at him with something like grave concern and anxiety, and the touch of her hand, grasping his. Once more he blinked and allowed reality to settle in its place. It did so - but not entirely. For everything seemed to have changed. Gone was the reality where he was immortal and she was merely mortal. Where to had the world disappeared where he was a wise, controlled and mature elf and she was an ignorant, temperamental and childish human he could and never would have interest in? Had it not been a fact that he felt nothing for this woman other than the completion of a wager? 

Out of sheer desire to do so, Legolas lifted their entwined hands and pressed his lips on the back of hers. He ignored her flicker of tenseness, turned his back to the resistance of his mind and did not attempt to move as he closed his eyes, prolonging the kiss further. 

Too amazed was Irulan to actually object. All she felt capable of was to watch him place a string of long and devastating kisses on her hand. The idea that perhaps he was not conscious of himself or her identity vanished when his eyes opened to find hers, but his kissing did not cease. And still, she could not move, frozen down to every cell in her body. He placed buds of fire on her hand and those bloomed into red, scorching flowers, leaving permanent marks on her skin, her spirit and her heart. Neither could she look away from his gaze that was, no doubt, the doom of everything Irulan had stood for and fought for all her life. 

When her phone rang again, both did not hear it at first. But at the persistence of Anne, who thought that at this late hour Irulan had to be alone and therefore ready to share some details, it kept ringing and however entranced their brains, they finally did pick up the tone. It should be said that it ignited frustration and shock in both. 

The look in the elf's eyes grew utterly cold and angry, but he did not blink or look away from her gaze. Irulan, feeling her insides tremble with that and not knowing what to do, remained exactly as she was for a few more rings, hoping that it would stop. Thanks to Anne, of course, it did not. Finally she swallowed and managed to look away. Another moment passed and since Legolas seemed to have no intentions of letting her hand go, even though he had stopped and remained watching her at the ring of the phone, her other hand wandered to the back pocket of her pants to retrieve it. 

But she never got to pull it out. Suddenly his free hand grasped hers and she halted to look up in surprise. A moment passed as Legolas gazed into her eyes. Some people moved by them. The phone continued ringing. The background noises of the street continued uninterrupted. He swallowed softly and whispered "Leave it."

It was no simple request. And certainly none that she should oblige. For, though plain in words, it had a far deeper meaning. 'Leave David,' was that underlying meaning, 'Leave him and take me'. Irulan took a sharp breath, his gaze and his touch and his proximity an incredible spell on her psyche. In all her right mind, she could not do that. She blinked suddenly, remembering in a long time that there actually was NO David. Alright......but still....she could not......WOULD not take Legolas. 

"I have to," she whispered finally, once again attempting to reach her pocket. And right at that moment the ringing stopped. She held her breath, her eyes locked to his, her hand chained to his, and waited. A part of her wanted it to ring again. The other part was more than glad that the option was gone. But no sound came. Slowly she pulled it out and stared at the dark screen of it. 

"I ran out of batteries," she said finally, biting her lower lip.

Legolas took a deep breath of relief and shifted somewhat to stand more erect. He did not let go of her hand, though she seemed to be very anxious of that. "And HE ran out of luck," he stated finally, and there was a tinge of satisfaction in his voice. He pulled up her hand and placed another long kiss on it, not looking away from her as Irulan swallowed softly with her current helplessness. Now her phone was dead. And she did not have the charger with her. Why did that make her feel so……afraid? She glanced up at the elf's smile and knew that the reason for that was because the exact thoughts were going through HIS mind as well. 

"You should let go of my hand," she managed to say with a hoarse voice, pulling at it softly. 

"I will do so," was his amused reply, "when David calls."

Irulan moaned and pulled again. "Legolas……let go. This sort of intimacy is not right between us."

"I agree," was his soft sigh, though his grasp did not weaken at all. "I too, yearn for more, Irulan." 

Her head snapped up as she stared at his serious expression that was softened with a smile. But once again, like any other statement he had made to her, this was no lie on the elf's behalf. Therefore it was easy for him to hold her surprised gaze and reply with a honest and bold one, himself. 

The idea of further intimacy with Legolas was such a fire igniting idea that Irulan's mind went blank, and then suddenly stormy with the need to avoid it. "I share that intimacy with another!" she seethed, desperate to put as much distance between them as possible. 

Something flickered in his eyes. He clenched his jaws and slowly pushed up his chin. A moment passed. "Not today," he said finally and it carried the tone of calm determination as well as a factual and rather pleasant observation. 

Irulan looked away again. Frustration was too weak a word to describe her current feelings. A call was echoing in her. A call to intuition. To the reign of the heart. To the strange land of sentiments. A call that refused to still, no matter how persistent her effort. Again and again it tortured her mind, tugging at her senses. "Why me?" she said finally and both bitterness and desperation was heavy on her voice. "Of all people, Legolas, why have you chosen me?"

He waited a short moment before he replied: "A choice was never laid before me."

She shook her head and brought up her free hand to massage her face. "I am not your match, Legolas. And you are not mine." She dropped her hand and looked up at him again. "The things that have pulled you to me are probably nothing but delusional. Sometimes we….see things the way we want them to be. It is an inner wish, nothing more." She felt a pang of dismay at her own words, but continued anyway: "I am certain that I am nothing like the person you think I am."

"I think," he said, slowly, tilting her chin to lock eyes with her again, "you are right in that." A moment of silence issued as he inspected her features and it was almost as if he was seeing her for the first time. "You are something far better."

"Legolas…," she groaned

"Have you ever been to Paris?"

"…..this is most……..Paris?" He nodded, a bright smile invading his visage. "No," she said with slight unease.

"What a grave mistake," he said with a beguiling smile. "Unforgivable, almost." She just stared back with a frown. "One that needs mending." With that, he pulled her along and Irulan, baffled at the sudden change of things, only complied. They turned a corner, leaving the crowded street behind. Legolas strode fast and she had a hard time matching that pace. Then he suddenly stopped and she almost ran into him. They were at the sidewalk of a wider street with less people but active traffic. He held up his hand and a moment later a taxi made a sharp stop by them. 

He opened the door and motioned Irulan to step in. Instead she gave the car a confused and slightly horrified look, followed by a questioning one directed to him. He remained looking merely amused and somewhat excited and Irulan was about to cross her arms on the chest and show some resistance when the sudden loud honking around her made her jump. Italians, by the look of it, had no patience for such personal shows and a hefty uproar broke at the prolonged stay of the taxi that was clogging the traffic. Suddenly bewildered, she hastily stepped in and was followed by Legolas who gave the driver directions in Italian. 

"Legolas!" she seethed, still a little startled by the sudden outburst of anger a minute ago. "Don't tell me that we are going to Paris!"

"As you wish, Irulan," he said calmly, "I won't tell you so."

He did not turn to her again, watching the passing scenery, although Irulan looked at him long and furious enough to bore holes into him. 

***

The taxi stopped at the train station and then another run followed as Irulan was pulled through various floors and halls. He found a booth and after some more Italian conversation (at this point she was frustrated that she did not know the damn language) and the elf's fabulous smile doing rather obvious things to the woman in the ticket booth, an exchange of credit card and tickets took place. The third run was thankfully shorter and ended with Irulan gently being pushed into a train that began to move as soon as they stepped in and Legolas closing the door behind them. She remained baffled at the fact that they would have missed it given another minute or so, and only woke from her daze when the elf gently grasped her hand again and pulled her through the compartments. 

They arrived at a private one and she entered to find a small room, crowded with a somewhat large bed and its own private bathroom. Her gaze went over it and turned to find Legolas standing beside her, sharing the inspection. That finally woke her from her daze: "Legolas! Are we really going to Paris or something?!"

He smiled at her warmly, walking into the chamber to turn on a different lamp that shed a more yellowish light to replace the bright fluorescent one on the ceiling. "We are indeed." Irulan's mouth fell open to that, but he seemed not to notice and walked by her to take a look at the small bathroom. "This ride will take an additional two hours compared to the speed train. But we have missed that one. And though another was to depart in an hour, I chose this train for it will offer you the chance to sleep on a bed." 

She was speechless for a few more moments, then hastily said "W-what about the hotel? What about……what about the jet? A-and my clothes?" Alright so the last one was rather a stupid question, but Irulan had never been so spontaneous in her life and the idea that she was leaving Italy and going to France as from about half an hour ago was sort of stupefying. 

He smiled a slightly surprised smile. "Rest, Irulan," he said with mild amusement. "I will go and call the hotel. And inform the jet. As to your clothes……I am sure that the management can send them to England right away."

She swallowed softly, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. New Yorkers did not like surprises. And now Irulan knew why. "But I……" She bit her lower lip and waited for a moment. Then proceeded: "No need. For the clothes, I mean."

Legolas nodded and placing his hand on her back, guided her to the bed. "Are you hungry?" When she shook her head and sat on the edge of it, looking up at him, he continued: "Do not wait on me. Sleep." With a last look he exited, closing the door behind him and leaving a rather baffled Irulan behind. Certain that there was absolutely no way for her to sleep, she took off her boots and her sweater, lay on the sheets, placing her back to the wall in fear that the slight shaking would drop her on the floor. Sleep invaded her mind so suddenly, Irulan did not even sense its coming. 

***

Legolas, for some strange reason, had never liked cell phones. Perhaps it was old fashioned, but the idea that he could reach anyone from anywhere and vice versa was not a very attractive one for him. For one thing, he felt that to actually make the effort when trying to reach someone was a better thing. Also, he did not like to be found and bothered all the time. So he stubbornly remained one of those people who drove the best cars and had the latest technology, but used public phones for their calls. He did have a cell phone, but used it only for business purposes and never took it with him on his personal trips. 

He called the hotel in Rome, acknowledging them of their departure and instructing them to charge him for this night anyway. Another call was to inform the jet that a return flight was no more demanded. The next one was through the operator to his usual hotel in Paris. Actually he did have a house in France, but never the city person, he had acquired it further to the south of France and the ride there would be needlessly long. Then he went and delivered his tickets to the officer so that they would not be disturbed later on. 

Having finished everything, he returned to the room and found Irulan fast asleep. Even though her breathing indicated that she would not wake up easily, he was careful when he sat at the edge of the bed. And he remained like that for some time, in deep thought. 

'What exactly are you doing, Prince of Mirkwood?' said that taunting voice in him. He had no answer. Out of its own accord his hand reached out and wiped away a strand from Irulan's face, gliding through it and the remainder of the dark mass of hair that was spread on the sheet. His pale fingers buried into her dark locks and he watched his action for a while, strangely mesmerized by it. 

'How delicate she is,' it continued with amusement. 'How frail creatures they all are! Not fitting for your grasp of steel, Thandruillion.' Legolas swallowed softly, not glancing away from Irulan's face that had gained a distinctive peace to it with sleep. 'And yet, you desire her.'

He took a deep breath at that, his posture not changing. 'Is it too much to ask in so many millennia?' he thought bitterly. 

'Not if you are willing to pay the price.'

'I have paid higher,' was his dismissive and rather edgy reply. 

'Oh no,' it chuckled, 'none nearly so high!' Eager to drown the argument, he bent over and untied his boots. 'All this time, you patiently and with no pause built your fortress, Legolas. From the lowest brick to the highest tower. From the darkest cellar to the brightest hall. You have spent a lifetime measuring, molding, stacking, calculating, pasting, renovating.' He carefully lied on the bed and turned on his side to face Irulan. 'It is a good fortress. A strong one. It will hold through this battle as it has through all the others.'

Legolas said nothing and instead reached out to trace the contour of her shoulder, down her arm and finally to her hand that lay curled between them. He was not sure that he could revert to his rational side if he tried to. It did not matter. Because he did not want to try. 

This transformation was certainly far too chaotic and swift for an elf. Especially an elf like him. His kind took such changes not too well – as with everything else, alteration required an immense time, much calculation and thought. But Legolas was not like every other elf. He had been a member of the Fellowship and that was an experience that had changed him and all his friends for all times. That mark was not one to fade with time. It was permanent. And deep. And something that granted one with a strange streak of boldness. The courage to step into territories where none had dared to step before. To become best friends with dwarves and fight with Men. To sing with hobbits and ride with Istari. And to watch everyone leave, to watch the night set on a land where his kind would never walk freely again. To remain when all spoke of its foolishness. Of its empty hope. Oh no…no ordinary elf was he.

And yet, it was not easy. 'It took so much to learn never to trust such omens of happiness again,' echoed the voice in his head once more. 'Will you throw it all to the flames now? Are you willing to hope once more, only to taste bitter disappointment in the end?'

'To late to ask me that,' he thought in amusement. 'My ship will sail this river to the end. Whether an ocean awaits me or a murderous Fall, is for Fate to tell.' 

'What is this gust that fills your sails and thrusts your vessel so?' was the desperate question. 

But Legolas did not have the heart to say the word. Not yet. Instead he chose silent slumber.

****


	9. The City of Love and Loss

Thank you, thank you, thank you! 

Such praise would urge even the worst writer to continue! And though I am by far not a good author yet, the struggle keeps me alive. 

And I am immensely pleased that all are happy with the slow pace. For once again, this is not a story of action. So I am glad that nobody expects many happenings in every chapter. 

Relationships are like continents – now flooded and submerged under the ocean, now shaking mightily and rising to sunlight, while others tremble and dive underneath the blue; now together, some thousand years later separate, some other thousand years later gone altogether. Though we will never know for sure, I am rather certain that this would hold true between elf and human as well. And be even more chaotic, if anything. 

The train jolted to a stop and Irulan woke up with it. She blinked several times to clear the haze of the sleep on her mind. For a few moments nothing came back to her. Then the sight of Legolas lying beside her and facing her, barely inches away, brought back everything and instantly she was awake. She swallowed slowly, many things assaulting her brain simultaneously such as his proximity. 

"Why is it dark?" she whispered. 

He smiled slowly. "It is too early in the day."

Several moments passed and her alarm dampened slowly. It was foolish of course to fear physical boldness from elves. Such things were great sin to them and none would ever cross that line without consent. Even now their bodies did not touch. But that meant little to Irulan who felt inexplicable excitement to lie with an elf in the same bed. Not to mention, that elf being Legolas. "At this point, this is downright kidnapping, Legolas," she said finally, trying but failing to feel anger at that thought. 

The look of passion that seeped into his eyes was not expected. He looked at her for a long moment, then reached out and grasped her hand, bringing it up for a slow kiss. With every hour he seemed to penetrate further into her private circle, bolder and more demanding than before. To be honest, amongst all the elves she had met, Legolas was the most extraordinary one. He was not reserved and careful like them. There was actually a certain daring to him. A certain carelessness for the consequence of his actions. Or for the thought of others. 

"It is a tempting idea," he said with a low voice, breaking her train of thought. 

"Legolas," she said slowly, ignoring the sensation spreading from her hand. "My phone is dead. People will……worry for me." She had no doubts that Anne would in due time probably kick that castle to dust. Of course she had no way of knowing that Anne was not really anxious. "Pleased" would be the better word for it. 

His face was as blank as a face could be. "Blame it on me, then."

Irulan sighed in frustration and snatched back her hand. "I want to make some phone calls!" she said and finally it came out determined enough. 

He smiled with amusement, intrigued by her fire. "Certainly, Irulan. We will leave for the hotel shortly and you can make any call you want." He raised himself on one elbow, then, his smile widening. "Will you tell David of your trip with me?"

She gave him a sour look. "Certainly not," was the dismissive statement. 

"Perhaps you should," he said, that penetrating look dominating his expression again. "Tell him that another now claims your heart." His fingers glided over her cheekbone in agonizing slowness. "That he stands no chance against this other." Over her lips they continued and Irulan's breath caught in her throat at the intimacy of it. "That his persistence would be useless." His touch swept down her throat and finally his palm found rest on her neck and their eyes locked again. 

And again, there was the desire to kiss her. Far stronger and threatening than before. Nothing like the gentle wish that had stirred him yesterday. Fueled by a sense of naturalness, it pushed him mercilessly to take the leap. To make the jump. The second time Irulan felt it as well and attempted to break it, turning her face and pressing her profile to the bed. 

But it only worked to a certain degree. She denied him her lips, but too eager to still the fire in him, Legolas leaned down and placed his lips on her cheekbone. Irulan took a sharp breath at that unexpected motion and once again froze beyond action. His scent washed up to her, and she realized that he wore no fragrance. And good thing, for it would disrupt his natural, elven smell that was simply beyond description. It was almost more like a feeling, not a scent. But she did not get the chance to delve into the matter, for the sensation of his lips on her cheek was far more overpowering. 

Only many moments later Legolas lifted his lips again, pulling back merely an inch before the desire to repeat it overcame him and he gave in to it, placing another lingering kiss on her cheek as his fingers glided behind her ear, slightly diving into her hair. Many women he had kissed. And with far more intimacy than this rather harmless act. But none of those kisses had set his nerve ends on fire like this. Only when it erupted in his chest and fanned through his entire body did he recognize the excitement he had not felt for too long a time to remember. How could one forget such a sentiment, so strong a pull? A pull no creature –whether elf or man- was designed to resist. 

He continued placing soft kisses, bending under the pressure and the force of that feeling. And if Irulan had not bolted to sit upright, backing away to put distance between them, he doubted that he would have been able to stop. Even with her movement it took him several moments and an intimidating amount of effort to return to reality. She inched further back, sitting with her back pressed against the wall as he sat up, facing her. A distinctive blush was on her face, and she seemed out of breath. 

With the retreat of the desire came the approach of alarm. "I am sorry," he said as soon as he found the power of speech. "I was…..I could not stop."

Irulan swallowed hard and avoided eye contact with him, focused on her lap instead. "Don't do that again," she said finally. 

Dismay came over him. For one thing, he was absolutely sure that that would be a promise he was incapable of keeping. Secondly, it was one he did not _want to keep. "Was it so much to your dislike?" he said, a little bewildered and not quite sure how to proceed, since no woman had reacted so, before._

Irulan combed her hand through her hair nervously, still not looking at him. "I am in no…..state to engage in such a thing, Legolas. I have told you before, but you choose not to listen."

The dismay in him grew into sharp fury and he had to swallow hard before it would come out as another string of bitter words, like at the dinner yesterday. No doubt that David had the privilege for this. This and the privilege for much more. Only _he_ was allowed to savor Irulan! He clenched his hand into a fist and looked down at it to clear his mind. "No weak man am I, Irulan," he said finally, and it came out colder and sadder than he intended to. "And I ask not for you to grant me anything freely." He looked up at her and waited till she reluctantly did the same, a great confusion and indecision in her dark eyes. "I wish to gain the right for it," was his rather low and determined statement. "To deserve it. Tell me how."

Too shaken to answer and afraid of engaging in a bargain for such a thing, Irulan remained silent. "What must I do to win such distinctiveness?" he pressed on. "I shall outdo all others, several times."

"Nobody did anything," she said with desperation, not in complete understanding of his way of seeing things. By the looks of it, Legolas thought of this as a grave accomplishment, a serious competition. He probably imagined that all suitors were lined up and tested by her to make a pick. Sadly Irulan had no suitors. And therefore, no picks. Her affairs to this day carried no such effort for the other party. 

"And yet," he said somewhat bitterly, "they have been allowed the intimacy that you so sharply refuse me."

"Legolas," she said finally, finding it easier to speak, although he seemed a pulsing bundle of anger and frustration, "what you ask for is not something I can grant in a day. I…..I just am that way." She observed his disappointed expression for a moment, then felt like giving him a better reason. "And…you know that…..I mean right now….."

Instead of convincing him, it only seemed to flare him even further. She shut her mouth immediately as Legolas glared at her for a few moments, not moving at all. "David," he said finally and it sounded like a curse rather than a name. Irulan decided then that she should stop with the David issue altogether. It was beginning to get out of hand. Once Legolas found out……she suppressed a shiver at the thought. Let's just say that it would be beyond rude. 

He looked away for a moment to gather his wits. This was not the courting he had had in mind. And it certainly was not the way to convince Irulan. Not to mention, that he was too good a hunter to follow such a losing road. A few people passed by their compartment, talking in French and Irulan shifted slightly. But she did not move and instead remained watching Legolas, whose right hand went up to massage his face. When he finally dropped it and looked back at her again, he seemed much calmer. 

"Very well," he said and it sounded much more rational. "I understand and respect your decision, Irulan. And I admit that this pace is understandably hectic for you." He looked up at her and swallowed softly at the tug of the pull once more. The incredible pull of attraction that shook his ship like a wild storm. Slowly he held out his hand to her and Irulan only looked at it dubiously. "Do not shy from me. I will not breach your trust again," he whispered. 

True enough, Irulan could glide off the bed and get up by herself. And that was, no doubt, far more natural a thing to do. Not to mention that it would put the necessary distance between them. The distance that seemed to melt into nothing by the minute. She was a strong woman. An independent woman. She was living by herself, with no one to lean on, and she managed just fine. She needed nobody. She could get up, tell Legolas that she has given him his chance and that she did not want to continue. That was all it would take. 

What would follow? Irulan would return to New York with Anne and probably never see Legolas again, since she was no longer in interaction with the Circle. Everything would go back to the way it was. She would work a lot, laugh a little, date some men, and lie alone in bed at nights, dreaming of a different life. And that had been perfectly acceptable and fine just a couple of days ago. Why oh why was it now such a terrible vision? 

'He is arrogant,' she told herself and God knows he was! 'He is cold and selfish.' True to the word, indeed! 'All aside, he is an elf! He will live and never age a single day while even now you are striding towards death. He is older than your mind can perceive. As a matter of fact, your mind can not perceive ANYTHING about him – so different in nature is he. There can be nothing, absolutely nothing between you and him, period! He is not even your type, for Heaven's sake!'

And yet…….

Legolas did not move or blink and waited with true patience. And many moments later, when he was tempted to think that she would refuse and end it all, she swallowed softly and casting down her eyes, timidly reached out to place her hand in his. It would be impossible to describe the relief that came with that small motion. He exhaled the breath he was holding and grasped her hand stronger, then stood up, pulling her off the bed and on her feet. They stood rooted for a moment or two and he pulled up her hand for another soft kiss. Thankfully she seemed to have gotten used to at least that much and this time did not even tense as she usually did. "Thank you," he said softly. 

She did not look up at him, and nodded before she replied: "Mistakes seem to be a common characteristic of our kinds," was her husky statement. "They deserve forgiveness on both sides."

Legolas found nothing to say to that and finally decided to remain silent. He released her hand and walked out of the compartment, then through the corridor that seemed already deserted for the most part as Irulan followed in silence. They left the train and walked through the station into the street. It was still very dark, probably several hours before dawn when they sat into a taxi and he gave directions in his perfect French. 

"What is his profession?" he said suddenly, as the car was moving through the silent streets.

Irulan, who had been watching the passing dark streets of Paris, turned to him in confusion. "Whose?"

He gave her a sheepish look. "David."

Irulan almost moaned. "Can we _not talk about this, please?"_

"It was a simple question," he said blankly. Of course it was far more than that. More like 'Getting to know your enemy'. Irulan sighed and turned to the window again. "Let me guess," he said then, leaning back on the seat. "He is something like……a computer programmer?" She did not turn to look at him and he prodded on, slightly amused. "Perhaps that is why he is so carried away that he forgets to call you, Irulan? Perhaps he can not help it – he simply lacks the sentiments and the common sense to appreciate someone like you."

"He is not a computer programmer," she seethed, but did not turn to look at him. 

"I see. A financial advisor then? Or a broker? Too caught up in the greed of the world to remember the woman no sane man could forget?"

"He is not……." She took a deep breath and lowered her voice. "He is an artist, alright?!" she said finally. 

"An artist?" was his surprised (or rather mock surprised) comment. 

"Yes. A…..a painter. And he is very sentimental. And sensitive. And he DOES call me, damn it!"

Legolas smiled, but did not prod on. Neither spoke during the short ride, and it gave Irulan once again the opportunity to revert back to her normal state. The kiss on the train had indeed turned her upside down. But now the train was in the past and Paris was the present. She smiled a small smile, watching the scenery. He would tell her of old France! She was aware that she was growing soft in the matter of Legolas, and that he was indeed breaching her iron wall with his gentle attitude. But the more time she spent in his company, the less that mattered. Why not enjoy being spoiled and admired for a while? What was wrong with being a queen even if only for a short time?

Finally they stepped out and walked into a hotel that seemed even more fancy and spectacular than the one in Rome and that flickered with life and light even at this time of day. Legolas made a short speech with the management that seemed overjoyed and a little surprised to see him once again, but at his eerie hour. Irulan waited patiently as some commotion erupted and finally a woman was found and brought forward, and she led them to a store in the hotel. She opened the locks and the door and lighted the store as they stood waiting. 

"What is going on?" Irulan whispered finally. 

"I want you to shop a little, Irulan," he said, gazing down at her. At her baffled expression, he continued: "No need to sleep in discomfort and use the same clothes. Please take anything you want and do not worry about the payment."

She shifted in discomfort, looking around the store and the woman who seemed rather sleepless, waiting on her. "Legolas," she began carefully, not sure how to refuse without offending him, "I would rather-.."

His frustrated sigh made her stop. "Irulan…..let us not waste time on such a small matter. You know as well as I do that you can buy this entire store and it would hardly be noticeable on my bank balance." 

She took a deep breath and nodded, not daring to argue further at this point. "I do not want you to think that….I'm taking…..advantage of you or something," she finished hastily. 

Legolas blinked and looked down at her for a long moment. "Of course not," he said a little baffled. She nodded seriously, her discomfort still evident. "If anything, Irulan," he said then with a sly smile, "_I_ am taking advantage of _you_." His smile grew wider then. "Consider it a small sign of gratitude for your company."

She looked around the store once more and he released her hand, as the woman waited in utter patience. "I will do the same and meet you later," Legolas said then. "Let this lady guide you to your room when you are done, Irulan," he said gently, then spoke to the woman in French and left. Irulan smiled nervously, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt a little, not sure how to proceed. Finally the woman walked towards her with a small smile. "Mademoiselle, what do you need?" she said with a heavy accent. 

Irulan was not a shopper. As a matter of fact, she hated shopping. She did not have the patience or the nerves for it and had a habit of seeing something she likes, grabbing said item, and going straight to the cashier. She decided to go for the easier things first and finished that round of the trip in an impressive half an hour or so (under the rather shocked and watchful gaze of the lady). After all, she could always return them if they did not fit. No need to try them on now.

Done with the socks, pants, shirts, pajamas and jacket, she turned to the woman once more. "Well," Irulan began then, "how about….do you have underwear?" Now THAT was essential, and to be honest, Irulan had often enough fretted about how to buy some without asking Legolas and not to mention – without having any money. Since the trip was taking longer than her expectations.

"Ah!" the woman said with a glint in her eyes, "THAT is our expertise, Mademoiselle," and motioned Irulan to follow. 

This should have been much shorter, but the collection was indeed incredible and after another fifteen minutes, she was still stuck with lingerie that she had no intention of wearing in her entire life. 

"Er….do you perhaps have something…..simpler?" she said, shifting a little and careful not to say anything offensive. These French people, it seems, were way too eccentric in the choice of underwear. 

She gave Irulan a confused look, then looked around the store. "Ah!" she said then, her face lighting up again, "I know exactly what Monsieur Greenleaf will like! Follow me, Mademoiselle!"

Instead of a following Irulan, the woman only received a rather loud and unladylike gasp, upon which she turned to inspect the visitor's shocked expression. It took Irulan several moments to find the voice to speak again. "He…..I mean I……Mr. Greenleaf and I……are only friends!" she finished, perhaps a trifle too loud. 

The woman gave her a long, blank look. "Of course," was her plain answer, but the small smile that came with it was enough to turn Irulan bright red. 

"We are friends, I tell you!" she hissed, her embarrassment giving in to anger. 

"Yes, Mademoiselle. I heard you the first time," was the cool reply in heavy French accent. 

Irulan, in her anxiety failing to realize that it was ridiculous to try to convince a store attendant in the strange hours of the morning, pressed on: "We are on a trip together. That's all. Nothing is going on between us!" she spat. 

"That, Mademoiselle, is a pity," was the calm and blank reply that left Irulan speechless for a moment. "Would you like to see some samples that would most certainly change his mind?"

If possible, Irulan grew even a darker shade of red. "W-WHAT?! NO!" 

The woman only blinked back with widened eyes, speechless in the face of such an outburst. Irulan pursed her lips then, and angrily began to unbutton her pants, then pulled it slightly aside to reveal her rather casual and sporty underwear. "I want something like this!"

The French woman gave the lingerie a horrified look, then gave Irulan one that spoke of doubt and confusion, and finally muttering something in French, vanished in the store. A few minutes later she was back with various similar items in her arms. Though none so simple and casual as hers, they were still plain compared to what was in the rest of the store. Irulan nodded curtly to denote her satisfaction and said "Fine, I am done."

"Mademoiselle," the woman said, pushing her chin up, "it is only my desire to aid you that makes me insist."

"Insist on what?"

"Would you not see the…..different samples of our collection?"

Irulan gave the woman a disbelieving look. "Listen….lady…."

"Catherine, please."

"Lady Catherine," began Irulan, eager to sound patient, "your lingerie is without doubt the finest. But I am in no need of it, at the moment."

"Monsieur Greenleaf will be displeased with my service, Mademoiselle," was the cool reply. "He will think that I did not guide you well enough in the matter."

Irulan opened and closed her mouth several times. "Monsieur……MR. Greenleaf," she snapped, "will not SEE my underwear, I can assure you of that!"

"Oh," was the confused reply and for a moment Irulan actually thought that the woman had finally believed her. But she should have known better at the dangerous twinkle that set in Catherine's eyes. "Why did you not say so before!?"

"I did," Irulan said slowly, overly suspicious about that attitude. 

"The blindfold, I see," chuckled the woman, sighing deeply with delight as Irulan gulped and felt her mind go blank. "Very innovative, lady Irulan. Would you be interested in some……other _products, then?" she continued with a devious grin. _

***

Irulan walked into the room, rudely grasped the articles from the woman's arms and literally banged the door shut to her face. She stomped into the next chamber that proved to be the bedchamber then and threw the clothing on it. For several moments she remained standing, massaging her face and literally heaving with anger. "Perverted French!" she hissed to herself, trying to cool her temper. 

"What is the matter?"

Irulan jumped at the unexpected words and if she had not automatically clasped her hand on her mouth, she was certain that a nasty shriek would have found her way out. "Legolas!" she gulped, her knees trembling with the shock. "Legolas! What are you doing in my room?!"

The concern on the elf's face slowly faded then and turned into something like discomfort. "I forgot to tell you……this was the only available room." When Irulan dropped her hand and just stared at him with disbelief, he concluded matter-of-factly: "We came on very short notice." 

She stared at him, then at the bed, then back at him. "B-but……"

"Worry not," sighed Legolas, giving her a dry look, "you can sleep in this room. I do not need further sleep for this day."

"Oh," she stammered, against all odds blushing a little, "thank you."

He nodded curtly, then walked up and stood before her. "Did something happen?"

She blinked in confusion. "No."

He gave her a dubious look. "You looked rather angry when you walked in." He decided against repreating her remark about the French people and instead said "Has anyone offended you?"

"No, no," she waved dismissively. "We just had……a difference in taste, that's all."

Though not looking too convinced or in full understanding, he nodded again and glanced at the clothes on the bed. "Have you found all you are looking for? These seem very few. Will you not need anything else?"

"I don't think so, Legolas," she sighed, massaging her face. "It is just another day, right?" At the silence that issued, Irulan looked up to his face and found him staring down at her with bemusement. "It is only _one more day, isn't it?" she said with narrowed eyes. _

He did not answer and instead said "The bathroom is right there. I took a shower before you came to leave it for your usage". And indeed, he had changed into a more casual looking, cotton pants and a soft cotton cream colored long sleeve t-shirt. The t-shirt was loose fitting and had a rather large neckline, which revealed too much of his perfect chest, by the way and Irulan quickly re-focused on his eyes, nodding in understanding. "I will remain in the other room. Good night, Irulan."

She watched him walk out, too baffled to bring up the question again or to prod him for a real reply on the matter. She shook her head, thinking that traveling at this pace was not a good idea at all, then found the pajamas amongst the pile and dragged herself into the bathroom. 

****

"Legolas?" He dropped his hand that had been lying across his eyes, and turned to the door that led to the bedroom. Irulan stood in her cream colored silken pajamas that flew freely over her curves, but added an incredible feminine and attractive air to her – especially since the color contrasted with her olive colored skin. Her hair was dried, but slightly wet, the locks having gained fullness and texture. The excitement that washed over him was simply too strong for someone of his age and his experience. Not to mention, current status of no choice in the matter. "What are you doing?"

"Thinking," he said with a slight smile, his eyes not leaving her, though they probably should. 

She bit her lower lip and shifted a little. "About what?"

"You," he said truthfully and watched her freeze in surprise. He smiled wider at that and she finally looked away to break the contact. It was surprising how sensitive Irulan was in reality. She had been so vulgar and snappy in the first days. But with gentle treatment she was rather childish and sweet. "What is it?" he said then, to push away her tenseness.

Irulan shrugged, looking out the window that was still dark. "I…..do not like this idea of you sitting on the couch while I sleep on the bed." 

Legolas laughed softly and once again, she remained looking at him, baffled by the sound of it. "Don't worry. I am comfortable. Go sleep," he said gently and with a tinge of amazement. 

She grinned then, still under the effect of his laughter. "Come with me," was her comment, accompanied with a shrug. It took Legolas a lot of effort to suppress the surprise that came over him at that offer. A swift inspection told him that Irulan was not offering intimacy, but only a sharing of the bed. 'Is that good or bad?' he thought suddenly, and was not certain of the answer. 

True enough, Irulan had no expectations of intimacy whatsoever. As a matter of fact, at the moment she was so sleepy, the only energy she had left was used to stifle the yawns that seemed to know no end. Suppressing yet another one, she disappeared from view and Legolas hesitated for a moment, then slowly stood up and walked to her room. 'Now you better behave, Prince of Mirkwood,' came the threatening voice in his head. And why should he not? There was nothing intimate about lying in bed with someone else (at least not for an elf, whose major obsession, unlike their human brothers and sisters, was not sex). There was nothing intimate in this whole affair. So why did he feel so damn excited, or why did this feel so taunting? 

Before he could delve further, he had arrived at his destination and Irulan was sitting on the edge, gliding her finger over the silken cover of the bed. To his amazement, she was the only woman who was completely oblivious to the possibility or option of a physical affair between them. Or better put, unlike any woman he had courted or attempt to gain affection from, she was not interested a physical intimacy with him. There she was, sitting on a bed, with her pajamas on, in the city of sex and love, alone with Legolas who was not only a man, but happened to be indeed a man of fierce attraction and beauty, and she was as far away from the idea of tempting him as any person could be! 

And exactly that was _incredibly_ attractive to him. Any other woman would have been wearing a daring lingerie and ready to do anything to seduce him. Not knowing that as an elf with no fixation about physical intimacy and an experience that made theirs look minuscule, he simply could not be seduced. Never had been. HE was the seducer. HE always went for what he liked or wanted and in the end, achieved it – often far too easy to be called a challenge. Not the other way around. 

Until now, of course. For in the face of such disinterest, he DID feel indeed that thing that humans called physical attraction and that he had practiced on them for millennia now. He remained rooted, for the first time doubting his control and will-power as a moment later Irulan looked up and locked eyes with him. "Come lie down," she said, as if it was the most normal suggestion on earth. Legolas did not move right away and she scratched her head, yawned and lay under the covers, placing a rather big pillow under her head. 

Feeling amazed by both her, and his reaction to her, he took a deep breath and finally relented, walking to the other side of the king size bed and lying down on it. "Do not feel offended if I fall asleep, alright?" she said, shifting and lying on her side to face him. 

"Of course," he whispered and remained looking at her. 

"Are you not cold?" she said after he refused to move another moment and looked down at her with an expression she was too tired to read at the moment. "You can come under the covers if you want."

He blinked in amazement and she suppressed another yawn. By this time, Irulan had grown rather trusting to Legolas and knew of course with certainty that she could ask any elf of the same thing and none would ever use that opportunity. "Hell, none would even think about it in the first place", she thought then "since I am not exactly what one would call attractive or beautiful." He had been a little too bold in the train, yes, but –once again having bounced back from the first impact of the event- she had reached the conclusion that a kiss on the cheek was far from a sexual act. Not to mention that he promised not to repeat it. And if not the promise of an elf, what promise could one place trust in? And who, on earth, had ever heard of anything such as the seduction of an elf?

Legolas, not apt to feel temperature changes too much and actually feeling more hot than cold at the moment, silently glided underneath the covers and respectfully remained on his side of the bed, with a rather large gap between them. A silence issued then, as the yearning to touch her grew immensely with her proximity and he was baffled by the willpower it required to push that desire back. "I have called and left our number at the castle in England," he said suddenly, eager to dampen it. "It was very early, of course, but the staff will give Anne the number first thing in the morning."

Irulan nodded, her eyelids fluttering close. "Good," was her sole comment and true to her word, fell asleep almost immediately after that. Legolas smiled at the fragileness of humans and how easily they tired. He remained silent and motionless, watching her slumber deepening as she gave in to her fatigue. Only after he was certain that she was deep asleep did he dare to shift and move to lay closer to her. 

Instantly his mind flared up and warned for caution. But it is surprising how fast both humans and elves can change - for only in a matter of days, ever since he had decided to put his conscience away, Legolas had rather grown fond of not heeding that logical side of his. For one thing, it was downright fun and brought with it a state of mind that, in its adventurous and merry state, reminded him of his days during and after the Fellowship. An era in which he had been bold and careless and only gained from those merits. Secondly, he doubted that he _could_ act different even if he wanted to. The pull that Irulan was exerting on him was amazing in its intensity. Very few mortals had intrigued him to this degree and by now he was certain that he felt more than a simple attraction to this particular one. 

In any case, he dared to inch closer, knowing that she would not wake at such a movement and then reached out to gently trace her fingers, encircling her wrist, moving up to her forearm, then back, feeling the touch of warm human skin and the soft muscles underneath as well as her gentle pulse. This, it seems, had become an awful weakness for him. And though it was not proper to engage in this kind of contact with a woman who was not his lover, and once again, Legolas was not a man to do so unless she was, he simply felt incapable of continuing to seek it out whenever he could. 

He glanced at the window and the partly closed curtains revealed a dark sky with blotches of grey. Soon day would break in Paris. And already he was excited to be spending it with Irulan with no one and nothing to disrupt their fun. 'Especially David,' was the taunting, silent comment to that. 'The foolish way of mortals!' he thought with somewhat more bitterness than he would expect. 'He is supposed to be her lover, but has barely called ever since her arrival. No doubt that he is too busy seeking other affairs!' Though elves were obsessed with loyalty on their own behalf, he was well aware of the rather careless tendencies of humans in that matter. 

'And yet,' continued the voice then, 'she is loyal to him. Even in the face of your attempts, dear Legolas.'

He sighed with frustration to that. Indeed, she was. And true enough, what he was doing was very wrong. For no elf would so openly court a woman who had an affair. Unless the elf was in love. 'Which, of course, I am not,' he added hastily. If not for the wager, he would have never attempted such a thing. A part of him laughed at that statement and he swallowed softly at that response. 'Such valiant words,' it mocked, 'for someone who can not stop touching her.'

Legolas almost shrugged in response to that. 'Maybe I am not the elf I thought I was,' was his smug reply. 'I have no one to answer to and nothing to lose. Let others have credibility and virtue. I'll take the touch of her over it any day.'

***

The next morning the phone rang in the living quarters of the chamber. Irulan stirred slightly and Legolas, who had been awake for a long time now, whispered "Sleep," to her ear, then glided off the bed to pick it up. 

"Yes?"

"Monsieur Greenleaf, a call for you from England, Sir."

"Yes, please connect me."

A click was followed by Anne's voice. "Irulan?"

"It is me, Anne," he said. 

A short silence followed, which spoke of shock on her behalf. "I......called Irulan's room."

"This is it. We are staying together," he said, bemused at the fact that someone like Anne was shocked enough to stammer.

"Oh," she said and then became silent again. Legolas waited, feeling satisfaction of her surprise. 

"There was no other room available," he said finally, a part of him regretting to say it. 

"Oh!" she said then, laughing nervously. Then a moment later: "How unfortunate. For a moment I actually felt happy for you guys."

Legolas chuckled then. Anne was indeed an amazing woman! "Irulan is asleep, I'm afraid. Shall I wake her?"

"Oh no! I was just.....curious. We never got the chance to talk. I called her yesterday evening in Rome. But.......we could not speak. And after that, I could not reach her."

"You called her yesterday?" he said suddenly, mild curiosity in his voice. 

"Yes. Yesterday evening."

Legolas did not answer. He had been with Irulan all the time. And the only person who had called was David. Unless it was during the one hour they had spent separate in the hotel. "Oh yes, we were having dinner. Around 9," he said, walking around the matter. 

"Yes. Sorry to interrupt it. Irulan made it rather clear that I was," she said dryly. 

The mind of an elf is not a thing to be underestimated. Especially the mind of an elf like Legolas. It is an extremely complicated thing, honed by so much experience, input, observation and time, and so different in certain aspects from the human mind, that we shall never understand its system and structure to the fullest. In our terms, a lightning of understanding struck Legolas then and every conversation concerning David flew through his mind in a fraction of a second. And what followed was pure, instinctive assessment and confirmation of what he had concluded already:

"No apologies. Has David called you?" he said with perfect disinterest. 

"No," came her cautious reply. 

"Ah.....I thought he might have. Since he must be frantic that he could not reach Irulan all this time."

Anne took the mocking exactly like a fish takes a dangling worm on a hook. "Yeah! HIM and frantic!"

"Indeed," mused Legolas. "Irulan said that he was busy." It took him only another moment to think how to ask it without lying on his behalf. "Is he in the real estate business?"

A short silence. "Eh.....well.....he does many things," was her somewhat reluctant reply and if Legolas had any doubts, they would have disappeared at her tone of voice. He remained stubbornly silent, urging her to continue. 

This was the very moment Anne had tried to avoid. Because she hated lying. Hiding part of the truth was more her way. But direct lying....now that was something that itched always terribly at her conscience. But Legolas had managed to maneuver her into a corner that left her with no other option. She might as well go ahead and submit. "But yes….he.....works in a real estate company. So......he does a lot of traveling. All over the world. It is a big company." See this is exactly why she shied lying. Cause she had the tendency to get carried away and include needless details! 

"Ah.....of course," was the satisfied reply. 

Anne instantly felt relief at his tone that spoke of confirmation. They talked a little more and Anne said that Legolas should take his time, that some council members were delayed due to urgent conditions. He thanked her and replacing the phone, walked to the other room, remaining on the threshold, looking at the figure of Irulan in the bed. 

No David. 

Irulan stirred with the silence and waited. Then waited some more. Finally massaged her face and slowly sat up. A moment later her gaze went to the entrance of the room. And a moment after that, she was as awake as any person could be. Perhaps even more. 

Legolas stood, leaning on the doorframe, his face an expression of such anger that her heart instantly and automatically began to beat thrice as fast. A panic and alarm grew in her at the possibilities of what could have caused this sort of state. "L-Legolas......" she stammered, and simply found nothing else to say. They stared at each other for eternity and his face remained hard as a rock that had never warmed up with the rays of the sun, before. 

"What happened?" she whispered in alarm. She had never fainted in her life but at that moment the lack of breath and the frantic rhythm of her heart made her think that this might actually be a moment she would do so for the first time. He bounced off the doorframe then and stood erect, still not diverting his looks from her. "Who called?" she stammered, her throat dry as parched paper. 

"Anne," he hissed between clenched teeth and Irulan got as white as snow. 

Something dreadful had happened! She knew it! Something had happened! "What happened?!" she said finally with a louder voice, the tone shaky. "What happened?!" was the frantic repetition. 

The elf regarded her for another moment, his eyes full with blue fury. "You," he whispered, his chest heaving with his breath, "have lied to me."

She blinked once. Twice. Then just looked at him, her frantic state not having dampened at all, for the understanding evaded her newly awakened mind. "What?" she managed to whisper a rather long time later. 

"You," he said with a louder tone, stepping towards the bed with a very dangerous, catlike gliding, "have lied to me, Irulan."

Her mind tried to grasp his words, but failed once more and the scenarios of possible dreadful things that could have happened to Anne, one of her other friends, her family or who knows who began hitting her like slaps in the face. She just stared back, her eyes fluttering with the need to close and submit to the temptation of fainting. Never in her life had she felt so afraid! 

He stood by the bedside across her, looming over her, his eyes incredibly blue and fierce, his stance berating murder. "There is no David," he said, leaning in and placing his fists on the bed, his face even closer. 

And finally she understood what this was about. Not that it made her feel better. Not at all. Irulan scrambled away, feeling a tremble erupt on her whole body. Her limbs suddenly became numb and though the idea of stepping off the bed occurred to her, it was simply beyond her at the moment. She swallowed, and almost coughed, for it refused to go down her throat. "L-Legolas.......I can....I can explain," she whispered hoarsely. He just looked at her, his eyes simply sharp daggers that stabbed into her very spirit again and again and again. "I can...I did not want...I....." It just did not come out. All thought left her brain. 

He remained silent and still for so long, Irulan thought something had come over him. She just sat there, feeling more afraid by the moment, though her mind told her that such a thing was simply not possible. "You lied to me," he said finally once more, and the threat was too evident to be missed. "You have played with me, Irulan. Like you would play with a fool!" he spat finally. 

"No," she said. Or tried to say. Though it did not come out right. "No, I-"

"Come here," he said suddenly and the tone of command instantly made her body sit up more erect. 

Irulan just stared back, sweat running down her back, her eyes glued to his, the sheet forgotten between her clenched fists. To her senses it seemed like an unnaturally long time, though in reality it was not even a full minute. "What?" she choked out finally. 

"Come here," he seethed. "NOW!"

Irulan shook with a slight tremor. And then did something that seemed simply unbelievable to her mind. She inched closer to Legolas, who slowly sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes never leaving her. She remained a good distance away from him, though. 

"Closer," hissed Legolas finally and Irulan bit down a whimper. She felt exactly 5 years old at the moment and her brain could not conceive how such a thing was possible. She inched closer some more. Suddenly the elf grabbed her arm and threw her onto the bed single handedly. Irulan gasped, stiffly remaining lying on her bed, her eyes only seeing his face that was looking down at her from his sitting position, much closer now. 

"Legolas!" she managed to say a moment later, with the shock of his speed and strength. 

The fingers he placed on her lips prevented her from further speech and the elf did not move or speak either, gazing down at her. For a while anyway. But things could get worse. Much worse. "You _dared to lie to me, Irulan?" he said, the smoothness in his voice far more frightening. _

"I'm sorry," she said hastily, swallowing again. 

"Not nearly sorry enough yet," he whispered and the fear simply took her. She stood no chance against it, so she surrendered completely. 

He looked at her long enough to see her open surrender to his dominant threat. And then he gazed some more, to seal the fear. Though it was an unthinkable thing to do during courting and in general to a woman, she had breached the bond of honesty. "Now," he whispered, but once again it held no emotion, "you will explain." His tone said that it was simply because HE decided it to be time, not because she wanted to. 

And Irulan did. From the very first time the issue of David had occurred to her in the car, to the phone call and how she actually wanted to tell him the truth but how she then had changed her mind cause he had acted so rude and how the innocent lie had just turned into something....well...not so innocent. She tried to sit up, since her current position was rather awkward, but Legolas pressed her down without a word, using her discomfort to his advantage. 

By the time she was finished, Irulan was about to cry. Never in her entire life had she felt so afraid and ashamed and the combination was a devastating sickness that gnawed at her heart. The fire emanating from Legolas' look was almost a tangible thing and enveloped her like a sizzling fever, seeping into her bones. It had been a mistake to think of him as a man. He was no man. Never had been. Never would be. He was a creature beyond her understanding. One that had slain orcs and faced evil in every form and had killed countless times. A slight tremble came over her again and she failed to suppress it completely. Though perhaps it was not an overly important thing done to someone else, to an elf of his status, it was almost sinful. 

It may be hard to understand such values in our current setting. But although the time was modern, there was nothing "modern" about the Circle or the Eldar. Neither their values, nor their ways had changed that much and they refused to adapt to the world when it came to such things as honor, justice and blood. The Eldar continued their ways – they lived in peace, under the total reign of reason, ethics and idealism. The rule they exerted remained just and balanced. The old ways of the world might have died and things like respect and good manners might have died with them, but not to these secluded few, who persisted to keep their bonds clean and clear. 

In that circle, what she did was downright betrayal. She had made a fool out of Legolas. He had almost begged her with good will for a chance or for a preference and every time, Irulan had held up the excuse of another, slapping it to his face. She had not given him an honest and true refusal. She had evaded him, making him look downright stupid. An elf! A warrior elf! A horribly proud warrior elf who had broken that shell only to court her! She gulped with the thought of that, the color of her shame rising to her cheeks as Legolas continued his silent inspection of her. "I am sorry," she whispered again, her voice shaking now very clearly.

"So am I," he said a long, long time later and it sounded final. 

He rose then, almost dismissively, turning his back to her and the bed. Irulan slowly sat up, the tendency to cry almost overwhelming now. She pursed her lips, watching his back as he stood in statuesque stillness for a few minutes and her heart did this strange strangling-stopping thing over and over again. 

Finally Legolas exhaled slowly and still not in full control of his emotions, decided to walk out. He did not turn around or address her, but silently left the room, and only when the entrance door to the hotel room clicked shut, did Irulan finally find the heart and the courage to cry like a little child. 

***


	10. Crossroads of Fate and Choice

By the time Legolas was out on the street, his temper had already begun to cool. Irritated to have experienced it to that degree in the first place, he absent-mindedly adjusted the collar of his jacket, not really feeling cold anyway, and strode on under the bluish light of an early Parisian morning in autumn. 'She lied to me,' he thought in bafflement and the idea was certainly not a pleasant one. Not only because of the obvious reasons, but also due to other reasons - such as the fact that he had fallen for said lie for a rather long time. 'My sentiments are clouding my mind for sure!' was the bitter echo in his mind. 'How can such a thing evade my perception?!' Secondly, it was not a simple and innocent lie. It was one that had made him look foolish. And there was nothing foolish about an elf. A flame of anger burst in him once more and his steps quickened unconsciously to dampen it. 

The fire did not last long, though. Because.......well.......there was no David. And that was good. 

'She lied to you, you fool!' shouted a part of his mind. 

The other part sighed and shrugged. 'There is no David,' was his simple and matter-of-fact statement. 

'And that makes it acceptable?!'

'Would you rather that she did NOT lie and there indeed WAS a David?'

Legolas had no reply to that. He sighed and looked up, finding himself in a large square with a fountain and a flock of pigeons. He walked by the birds, his eyes not seeing, his mind too engaged in an inner battle. 'Besides,' began the rational Legolas then, 'it's only fair. You, dear Legolas, can not claim honesty when you have none to give.'

A surprisingly sharp shame rose in him. For the first time in days his wager popped up to the surface of his mind - like a corpse that refused to sink into the dark waters of his conscience. Who was he to blame Irulan, when his lie to her was far greater? 

'You never lied to her,' broke in the sentimental Legolas eagerly. 'Not to her and not to anyone else.' Under the dry look of the rational Legolas, it felt tempted to continue: 'You have not spoken the full truth, yes. But it was no lie.'

'I am sure that Irulan will disagree once she finds out,' was the sheepish and rather bemused response. 

Legolas took a sharp breath with that thought and halted in the middle of the street he had been walking through. His lips pursed in concentration and a frown invaded his features. He did not look up and remained unmoving - his stance erect, his fists in the pockets of his jacket, his hair lose and hanging down his shoulders. 'What is it, Prince Legolas?' came the amused, taunting challenge. 'Why do you fear such revelation?'

'First off, he does not fear it,' defended the other part stubbornly and Legolas, eager to believe it, resumed his walk, though his pace had slackened. 'Secondly, it was a test - not a mocking, shameful attempt like hers! For the sake of the Council. For the sake of an important decision!'

'Ah please!' cut in the other one and Legolas knew that it was foolish to insist on the opposite. It had been a test, yes. But not one he had not been involved in emotionally. He could not deny now that he had WANTED her to lose. He had wanted her to give in to temptation and prove herself unworthy of her line, of the Circle and of Aragorn altogether. He had wanted her to face defeat in front of him. 

"But the defeat is mine," he said almost inaudibly to himself as the autumn breeze ruffled his hair and the elf blinked to look up. Day was dawning in Paris and the faint orange glow in the horizon had begun to turn into the dull yellow of daytime. "I have lost," he said again. And how strange that the thought held no dismay. 

'Don't be foolish,' said another voice in his head then and he took a sharp breath when he recognized it. 'You have lost a simple wager,' said Mithrandir, his soft but deep tone suspiciously human, though he was as far from a human as any being could be. 'Yet you have won the match of your heart. No other victory is greater, Legolas.'

'My heart's match?' he thought, stupefied. And yet, even though there was perhaps no open sign for it, he knew right then and there that it was true. His heart wanted her. It was simple and plain. He did not dare to think that he was in love with her -for love to an elf was a mighty bond and had no counterpart in the human world- but he knew that he desired her. Beyond physical longing. Beyond mental enjoyment. There was something more than those things that pulled him to Irulan. Something looming behind a scarlet curtain, throwing an enticing shadow on the wall behind. Although Legolas did not have the heart to pull that curtain aside for now, the presence of that something was undeniable. 

'You have lost,' a calm voice spoke in his mind and Legolas looked up to the breaking day, taking a deep breath of the crisp, cool air. 'Face it like a man, Thandruillion.'

He nodded grimly and then looked around. Except for the few people that it held, the street was deserted. A premonition came over him, then. One of the kind he had not felt for the longest time. It was almost prophetic in nature. He knew with utmost certainty that he stood at a crossroads and that his pick of path would have an unparalleled effect on his life and fate. Of this, he was sure. But not of which route to take or which one presented danger. His mind stilled and his focus sank like water seeping into earth. He stood in the cool morning hours, unmoving, closed to the outer events, open to his inner perception, trying to hear the whisper of his intuition. 

Nothing came. The paths stretched before him in equal threat and in equal allure. 'Let go,' was the sign on one and it sounded tempting. 'Let go and go back to your tranquility. Let the rock sink into your depths. Soon the ripples will cease and you will have peace. You outlive all, Legolas. You shall outlive this as well.' 

Indeed. Why not? 

He looked up to the other sign then. 'Hold on,' that one said. 'Take the ride. Too long have you walked in solitary idleness. Sure, it is rough. It is frightening – even to you. It is the tempest that will rip off all you have built. And yet……no real choice stands before you. Or are you too proud to admit that your voice holds no sway here? Here, where gods and demi-gods clash? Here, where the fate of entire people is stitched and unstitched? You too are only a thread in this fabric, Legolas. Know your place and know that this battleground is none for you – you hold no other option than obedience in the face of your destiny.'

He turned around and began his return walk. During that walk he made many decisions. Such as the conclusion that Irulan should never know about the wager. It would break her heart. Actually it would probably break his head, since she would probably act more angry than sad, but eventually, it would break her heart. She did not need to know, anyway. Once they returned, he would summon the Council and tell them that he had lost. That Irulan was as incredible, trustable and mighty a person as Estel had been and deserved the highest respect and vote in the Circle. Higher than even himself. He would tell them that his vote lay with hers and that her decision should be final in the matter of discussion. He smiled with satisfaction. No doubt that they would be shocked. No doubt that some would be displeased. If he had not seen it with his own eyes, her immunity to temptation would be highly suspicious to him, too. And he, too, would have been unhappy with this sort of decision. But she had ripped his eyes open and no longer did he hold such imprudent ideas. 

Legolas could be blamed with many things. But never of injustice and foolish pride. He knew when he was right and when he was wrong. And when convinced of his mistakes, he was not ashamed to face the consequences. He had been mistaken. And though for a human the idea to step in front of the Council and apologize for his misleading on the matter would have been embarrassing, the elf Legolas saw no embarrassment in the issue whatsoever. And the prize in return was simply too great to give in to dismay: he had found Irulan. If in return he had to step up to the whole world and declare his stupidity, it held not the slightest hesitation for him. 

But.......

She had lied to him. And just like he was ready to face the consequences of his own lie (though a part of him still insisted that he had NOT lied; that he had never spoken an untrue word to her all this time), she too should be ready to face the results of hers. 

It would be a mistake to think of Legolas as a man. Though his looks and his capabilities of blending in often tempted one to perceive him in that fashion (or any other elf, for that matter), he was nothing like a man. His mind, even after so many millennia amongst humans, remained the mind of a Firstborn. His dislike for deceit and betrayal and pretense was still as strong as it had been in his far younger years in Middle Earth. He had not played with Irulan or any other human. Never made promises he could not keep. Never pretended to be someone he was not. He had attempted to test her and she had proven him that she was worthy of the highest respect. 

She, on the other hand, had openly and repeatedly lied. She had elaborated and used the image of David to manipulate him. And this kind of deceit was not something he would allow to happen again. Grim determination enveloped him like the scales of a dragon. He had no intention of letting Irulan go. He had no intention of ending this relationship. On the contrary - now he wanted her more than ever. But he would make sure that she would NEVER EVER lie to him in this fashion again. 

By the time he hotel was in view again, several hours later, his mind was ready for the fiercest of discussions. He would back her yet into another corner and take what he wanted. In this case, it was Irulan herself that he wanted. 

He had no idea of course that his battle strategies were needless. Irulan would grant him with his wish in a far more eccentric way he could have imagined. 

***

Irulan waited in silent agony. The fact that she had no means to return home was very frightening. She thought about calling Anne and having her send in some money. But even if Anne did so under her name, she had no ID and no passport to withdraw it from the bank. Even if she got the money, she could not use it to leave the country – again, because she lacked a passport to prove that she had entered it, in the first place. The more she thought, the more she realized that she was literally trapped here, with no means out. No means, other than Legolas. 

But that was not the main reason for her anguish at the moment. She had failed Legolas. Which was terrible. And what was yet even more terrible was the fact that she had failed herself. All the respect she used to have for herself was gone. She had intentionally lied to a person who had shown feelings for her and played with him. Even though that had not been her objective, she had brought up the issue of David too many times to make it an innocent act. Too many times she had elaborated about her devotion and love for him. In the end, it had become something downright humiliating. 

"Aragorn's heir indeed!" she hissed to herself, tears rushing to her eyes again. "You are not worthy of him, Irulan! You have lied to his best friend. Congratulations!" Her torture on herself continued and became even deeper as the minutes dragged by and turned into hours. Legolas still did not return. The pain became unbearable and Irulan sat thinking why that was. "He has treated me so incredibly nice, why else?!" she said to herself. A sly part of her simply snorted at that. 

She sat there and thought back to the times they had spent together. What had actually happened? She had admired him. Then she had met him. Upon which she had found him rude and irritating. Afterwards she had thought him downright terrible. Then somewhere along the line she had feared and perhaps even detested him. And after that……well…she had……respected him. For his strength of character. And she had looked up at him. For his skills, his culture and his experience. After that it had been rather natural. With the ease of a river running downhill, she had begun to like Legolas. In a painfully addictive way. 

There was something in him…SOMEONE in him that she both felt incredibly tempted to know, and yet feared to know at the same time. She wanted to unearth him, breathe life into him, bring him back amongst the living. And yet, she feared the man that would come out of that shell, that cocoon. What strange creature would unfold wings? What chilling eyes would she be looking into?

Of one thing, Irulan was certain: she liked him. And she wanted his company. She wanted him to remain beside her and speak of tales that held the mystery and romance she had always dreamt of. She wanted him to take her to places ad show her a different face of this world. All her boyfriends had been so shallow and rude. Compared to them, Legolas was like a god. He was daring, yet kind. He was bold, and yet respectful. Irulan had no imaginations of a relationship with him. That was too far-fetched a thing to think (especially after this last incident). But nevertheless, just to be with him was such an amazing experience! 

As the time grew longer and longer…..a strange thought came knocking on the door of her mind. So peculiarly and so shyly it knocked, that first she did not even take is serious. But it came flying back, like a buzzing, annoying insect that refused to go away. She kept swatting, but it returned. Again. And again. Until she listened to it. And it made sense. Actually very much so. And true enough, it was the only way to fix things. The only way. A path muddy, dangerous and rather frightening. But not as frightening as dishonor. 

It might be difficult to understand Irulan's point of view. Perhaps it would help to remember that she is Aragorn's kin. And that the elves were right – that blood and lineage granted her things that were beyond her choice. One thing she was simply and downright incapable of, was to choose cowardice. To crawl away from her shame and her deeds. To run off and shrug off the consequences of her actions. 

It was much later when she heard the door open and click shut. She took a deep breath, stood up and walked to the other room, just in time to see Legolas striding in. When their gazes collided, he stopped in mid-step and Irulan observed with a sinking heart that once again his face had assumed that legendary blank look. The one that had deserted his visage for the last day. "Where were you?" she said, the fear of her solitary hours finally finding expression. 

He looked at her for another moment, then turned away. "I went for a walk," he said dismissively and strode into the room, taking off his jacket. He tried not to look at her again, since it only served to evoke feelings in him that were highly distractive, to say the least. Feelings that sung of strange actions. Such as grabbing her and kissing her until she relented to be with him. Such as telling her about his heart and his mind and his true desire for her. Such as baring his soul to her and admitting everything – from the test of the Circle to his doubtless defeat at it. Such as embracing her and quenching his thirst for her physical closeness. 

A dangerous song. A hasty and most tricky song. He placed his jacket on the armchair, his hands unconsciously smoothing it as he remained with his back turned to her, afraid to give in to the temptation of the sirens of his mind. Legolas was aware that the matter needed solving. That it stood between them and their possible future (one that he was hoping and aiming for, anyway) like a great, spiky obstacle. But to his own alarm, the decisiveness that he had just barely moments ago when he strode into the hotel, had vanished at the sight of her face. And as amazing as it was, at the moment he had absolutely no idea how to approach the subject. Should he be angry? Relieved? Should he apologize for handling her rudely and striding out like that? Or should he simply accept her apology and grant forgiveness? Should he be gentle or rough? He sighed in frustration, leaning further on the armchair, his shoulders rising as his chin rested on his chest. 

Irulan cast her gaze down and remained watching his back. Until the slap of the shame became a sizzling pain, asking for relief. "Legolas," she began cautiously, "I really-.."

"No need for further apology, Irulan. I heard you the first time," he cut in, his own frustration making his voice blank and emotionless. She exhaled in defeat and remained silent behind him. A moment later he suddenly turned to her. "Did you eat?" 

She looked at him, stupefied, then slowly shook her head. He gazed at the window, although he did not really need to do that to assess the time of the day (all elves were gifted with an instinctive knowledge of that – of a biological clock, so to say). "You should. You can not stay hungry the whole day." With that, the elf walked to the phone. "What would you like to have?"

Irulan just exhaled in frustration once more, turning away. "Nothing. Legolas, I'm not hungry," she said, waving her hand in a dismissive manner. 

"You must eat," he said, giving her a long look. "Would you rather go out, instead?" When she did not reply, he sighed softly. "Forgive me, I know your first day in Paris did not start off well." Irulan only nodded, still not able to look up at him. "Nevertheless, we need to have lunch," he added then with a more determined tone. 

"Legolas," she said with a tired voice and a few moments later finally locked eyes with him again. It took a lot of willpower to look into those eyes and not be discouraged by their inexpressive state. She halted for a moment, then took a deep breath and before she could change her mind, said "I want to pledge debt of honor."

He just looked at her, not a single muscle moving. Irulan stared back with steely determination. There! She had said it. Now nothing could reverse the process. And that was a good thing, because the human part in her was more than tempted to go back on it. 

A long moment passed. Time seemed to be frozen as his stare became heavier and heavier, but she refused to look away. "You don't know what you are saying," was his slow reply as his eyes narrowed while his grasp on the phone seemed forgotten. 

Irulan shifted to stand more erect, pushing her shoulders back. "I do," was her flat answer. Who knew she had this much guts? She herself did not. 'Fool! Fool! What have you done?!' screamed a part of her. But it was not terribly strong. Her shame, for instance, was stronger. 

Legolas regarded her for another moment, then managed to look away, a forced disinterest in his voice. "There is no need for an act of that measure. You were right – from the beginning it was a mistake. I should have never attempted," he said, his mind lingering on the wager. He locked eyes with her again. "It is me who should apologize. For I started it, against your wish."

Instead of giving in, Irulan seemed to grow more determined at his words. "I have lied to you. And caused you dishonor. I pledge debt of honor."

"I decline that pledge," he said, turning away once more. 

He had obviously misjudged Irulan. She was, after all, not an ordinary woman. His head snapped around at her tone of voice that followed: "I am Aragorn's kin!" she said and it sounded incredibly threatening. The elf blinked in surprise, halting in mid-action. "You will NOT refuse me," she seethed. 

Legolas walked towards her, step by step. Any other time, she would have felt intimidated and step back. Not today, though. "Do you have any idea," he said with a growl, "what you are offering?"

"I am offering anything you ask for," she said, her voice sharp but blank. A moment passed between them. "Was that not your wish, anyway?"

He raised his chin, his crystal eyes meeting her dark orbs. "You are a child, Irulan," he said finally, not knowing what else to say to that. Mainly because a major part of him stirred dangerously in reply to the offer. And the temptation to give in and accept became almost sharp in its intensity. To Irulan's luck, Legolas was not a Man, but an elf. And even though the temptation was incredible, he was strong in the face of it. And too well mannered to take advantage of an offer like this. 

"I am no child," she growled then and took another step towards him. "I was no child yesterday, Legolas, was I?" It came out rather amused and Irulan felt instantly amazed by her own boldness. Another short silence set in and she broke it soon enough: "I know that you will not demand anything unbefitting of me. So-.."

"And how, may I ask, do you know that?" was his flat intervention. She looked up in surprise at his pose – his feet slightly apart, his arms crossed on his chest. 

Now that was not something she had been expecting. Irulan swallowed softly, then said "Well.....well because.....you are an.......elf." His eyebrow rose and for the first time since this morning, he smiled. Though it was a disturbing one, it still felt good to see him smile. "You would not ask me of.......I mean you would not......" she stammered, despite herself, her image crumbling too swift for her liking. 

"I can ask anything I want," he said almost with a feral attitude, and continued his approach of her. "Retrace your offer, Irulan. You do not have the heart to fulfill it."

And that was definitely the wrong thing to say to someone like Irulan. She took a sharp breath and ignored the pleading of her mind that told her not to be foolish and act sentimental to the comment. "I have more heart than you think, Lord Legolas!" she hissed. "And I am ready to prove it."

He stood before her, looming, his coldness giving in to amusement against all odds. "Are you now?" he said slowly, inspecting her fearful and yet determined expression. "What if I asked to kiss you, Irulan?"

Irulan blinked, her eyes widening with surprise. "W-what?!" she managed to say a moment later. 

A smug smile crawled on his lips. He waited another moment, then said "See what I mean?" He turned away in disinterest, his amusement not changing for the worse, though. "Nevertheless, I respect your courage to offer it, of course. It was a very -..."

"Kiss me then."

Legolas halted for the third time and did not turn to face her immediately. He had to force down the sudden excitement that had exploded in him, first. When he did turn around, his heart was hammering like some stupid machine, but his face was as blank as ever (thanks to millennia of training). He looked at her for a long time, and she glared back, a mixture of anger, determination, fear and unease on her face. "I ask you one last time," he said slowly, his voice almost a whisper now. "Take back your pledge. It is unnecessary and unwise of you."

And how right he was! Kind, too. Cause her own pick of words instead of "unwise" would be "Stupid" and "Idiotic". 

"I am ready to face the consequences of my actions," Irulan said slowly, her eyes dark pools of determination. Actually at the moment she felt no determination whatsoever, but rather stubbornness and something that could only be described as pride. She would not turn her back to her mistakes and recede into a dark corner. She never had and was not about to start today. 

"Very well," Legolas said finally, elven blankness hiding the thrill he was feeling. He had tried to change her mind. He really had. If this was her wish...well....who was he to stop her? Biting down the grin, he approached her again and stood looking down at her as Irulan gazed up without blinking. "I accept your pledge then. And I bind your will to mine for a fitting time." 

She did not move or look away, but he saw the flicker of relief dancing across her features momentarily. Followed by a soft and long exhale. A few moments passed, taking the tenseness and the alarm she had been feeling since this morning, with them. It was childish. But at that moment, all Irulan wanted was for that dreadful atmosphere to disappear. She only desired to return to the gentle and thoughtful Legolas. She wanted to go back to their conversations and the amazing feeling of sharing something with another.

"I suppose I deserve a punishment," she said finally, tearing her gaze from him, clear exasperation in her voice. 'Some Paris adventure indeed!' she thought with slight dismay. 

"Yes you do," he said, and his voice betrayed amusement, though his features did not. Irulan remained rooted, not sure what would follow. Of all possibilities, she did not expect the touch of his hand on her cheek. The only reason why she did not jump at the action was mainly because she was too surprised to react. Unwillingly her eyes found his visage again as Legolas moved even closer and stood so close that the warmth of his body was perceivable. 

Irulan swallowed softly, feeling suddenly very uneasy. Her pledge held no regret. But certainly Legolas would not take advantage of such a thing. Right? "What are you doing?" she whispered, aware that her alarm was evident in her tone. 

"Whatever I want to," was his rather dismissive reply. A moment later he leaned in and placed his lips on her neck and she gasped despite herself, instinctively trying to step away. But that action was refused by Legolas, whose other hand had found her waist and prevented any movement on her behalf. His lips lifted from her skin. But only for a moment, and after an interlude, during which his warm breath did rather discomforting things to Irulan's heart pace, they ended up in another kiss, a little further up her neck. She tried to step away again, to no avail. "Do not move," he said, and the embedded, but rather evident command in his tone made her obey. The third kiss that was at the junction of her ear and her neckline made her bite her lower lip ferociously, because it was downright devastating. Irulan closed her eyes, a chaos of fire and ice battling within her. A part of her was tempted to give in and another part remained scared witless. 

Thankfully it stopped then and only when she felt him pulling away did she find the courage to open her eyes again. Legolas ignored the expression of alarm and shock on her face and ran his fingers through her long hair, his eyes following his gesture. The Valar must be very fond of him this day, for at the verge of losing everything, he had been offered a gift like no other. Though of course he had no intentions of abusing his rights over Irulan, the line between abuse and well deserved rights on her was rather tricky. And that felt immensely good. He sighed in satisfaction, finally locking eyes with her as his fingers trailed to her cheek again. 

"I think I earned that much," he whispered. Irulan did not answer. She did not have the strength or the heart to do so. "Now," he said softly, feeling more excited and happy than in a very, very long time, "let us go and eat."

"I.....am not hungry," Irulan whispered, dazed. 

"We will eat anyway," he said with soft determination and released her. "You will need your jacket. It is rather cool outside."

Irulan blinked and confused at the recent turn of things, ran her hand through her hair. "But I-"

"Irulan," was his low intervention and her head snapped up at the tone of gentle warning. "Your jacket."

She stared at him for another moment, then walked into the bedchamber to get it. 'This is not good,' she thought with a sinking heart, 'not good at all!'

And right she was.

***

Legolas took her to a little and cozy and rather plain restaurant and when Irulan still was not certain what she wanted, ordered in her stead. This time he did neither ask nor hesitate before he entwined his hand with hers on the table. The action, though done in the most natural fashion, was nevertheless awkward for Irulan, who felt tempted to take her hand back, but knew with grave perception that that choice was beyond her now. 

She decided not to talk about the matter. That decision lasted about three minutes. "This does not seem a fitting demand of me," she burst at the end of that short time. 

The elf glanced up at her, then leaned slightly back in his seat without releasing her hand. "I will decide what is fitting or not," he said slowly, his tone speaking of enjoyment. 

Irulan once again found the napkin and decided to make it pay for these happenings. "I don't think the debt of honor includes-"

"What exactly do you know about the debt of honor, Irulan?" was the matter-of-fact intervention.

Startled, she remained speechless for a moment. "Well......I.....not much." A moment passed. "I read about it in the archives of the Circle," she added. 

Legolas remained expressionless. "Then you must know that I can do whatever I want with you." She pursed her lips and remained gazing back at him with unease. He leaned onto the table, his fingers playing with hers. "I am master to you now. Until I deem your debt paid, you are sentenced to my wishes." 

"I know," she said a little tersely and was about to add that this information did not exactly explain why he was holding her hand, when he cut in smoothly: 

"And believe me, you do NOT want me to punish you." The look in his crystal eyes made a believer of Irulan right there and then. They remained locked to each other's gaze as her anger dissolved into slight intimidation and the elf continued leisurely: "The last time that pledge was made to me, I was not this merciful." 

She released the napkin then, rather afraid at this point. 'Just let him hold your damn hand!' said the voice in her head. 'Don't you dare do anything to invoke his fury, Irulan!'

"Fear not. I am not a man of vengeance. Though your lies have offended me greatly, I seek no pain on your behalf," he said somewhat gently. She nodded to that. "However," he continued, "I will take advantage of my rights over you." He let her stare back another moment in unease, then continued: "Your company gives me great pleasure. And my company will give great pleasure to you, if you but let it be so."

"How long was.....the....I mean how long the last pledge?"

A very peculiar smile came up to his lips and he did not speak as the wine was served. Only after the waitress left, did he continue: "Rather short. In elven standards, anyway. But then, he was a man of obedience," he added pointedly. He kissed the back of her hand before he released it and she picked up her glass. No doubt that wine was becoming a strong habit for her. And it seemed to taste so much better here. "Only 22 years of serving was a demonstration of my forgiveness and tolerance," he said dismissively, picking up his own wineglass. 

"WHAT?!" she exploded, making several heads turn in their direction. 

Legoals, though, continued spreading his napkin and smiled up to her sincerely. The curiosity of the others held no importance for him. "Yes, indeed. Many thought he deserved far longer. But I am not a cruel man."

Her mouth fell open and to her own demise, her brain was washed blank. The shock ran through her like a wave of earthquake. The elf observed her for another moment, then chuckled lightly. "Irulan," he said suddenly, "look at me." She obeyed reluctantly. His gaze held a softness this time. "Do not fear me. There are limits that I would never cross." Slight as it may be, relief came over her at his words. 

"I know," she said with a shaky voice. 

Suddenly he got up and moved his chair closer to hers. To sit across one another was too great a distance for him at the moment. Now that all obstacles were cleared, he felt an immense urge to be closer to her. To be as close to her as possible. Something incredibly majestic was blooming in him at the thought of it. Like an exotic plant, a species unknown before. How he wanted to smell it! To touch the strange petals of it! To watch it open up to sunrise and close with the dusk! The Valar had arranged things to happen in this fashion. And they were right…who was he to speak in the arena where gods clashed?

He found her hand again and gently kissed it several times. "Let us breach the walls that keep us hidden from one another," he said slowly. A waiter rushed to replace his plate and his cutlery to the new position, but Legolas remained oblivious to him, not looking away from her. 

"I do not want to breach walls," was her whine of a reply. 

He looked around the restaurant for a moment. "Curse of the times," he said then and when Irulan locked eyes with him again, continued matter-of-factly: "Your kind has forgotten what a woman is and what a man should be."

The look on her face became bafflement and she raised her eyebrows in a questioning manner. "What a woman IS?" He nodded in amusement to her already forming defensive attitude. "And what IS a woman, Legolas?" 

Legolas smiled, playing with her fingers and taking his time to reply. "A woman, Irulan," he said with a beguiling smile, "is the finest of creations."

She gave him a smirk that spoke of disbelief and he chuckled lightly. "Have I ever told you anything untrue?" Satisfied with her silent but rather discomforted stance, he continued: "And I have no reason to do so now. In all my years in this world, your gender is one of very few things that has not deteriorated or grown less in beauty."

"You just say that cause you want to soften me for the upcoming and God knows how infuriating statement!" 

Legolas laughed at that and once again, it chimed in the restaurant, making heads turn. 'He could win an argument simply by laughing,' Irulan thought to herself. "No. I say it because it is true."

"Very well," she said, a little shaken by that laughter but not ready to give in yet, "but I am sure that you mean to make a point here."

He nodded with amusement. "Once again, I am only honest when I say that I am no believer in the equality of genders."

Her eyes widened. "What?" she exclaimed, amazed and intrigued at the same time. 

Legolas shrugged gracefully. "We are not equal. Such an idea is foolish and fits only many of the foolish ideas of the times."

"I can't believe how.....conservative and......stiff you are!" she said softly, amazed. He smiled again and remained silent as she bolted "Oh I know! You think you men are better because-"

"I never said that men were better," he cut in, and Irulan halted with unease. "I said we are not equal. No doubt that the female gender is superior."

Taken by surprise at such a thing, she remained too startled to find a reply. Legolas smiled again, caressing her hand and not diverting his gaze. "It is only true," he said with a sigh, cocking his head to take a better look at her. "You and me, Irulan, are not equal. We were not created to be so. And nature knows best. I find it foolish to argue the opposite." A short silence followed. Finally he continued: "But...apart from the whole superiority and inferiority issue......nature has placed us in certain roles. And I think only conformity with those roles will bring the sought happiness and satisfaction."

"Roles?" she asked, suspicion creeping into her voice again. 

Legolas leaned forward and placed his arms on the table. "The role of a woman and the role of a man. Roles that have, no doubt, been forgotten. Which is the true source of unhappiness in this world."

"Oh I see now," she said dryly. "Women are supposed to stay at home and men can rule the world."

The elf waved his hand dismissively. "Do not insult your own intelligence, Irulan," was his sole statement and it miraculously shut her up. "Let us not go into extreme and foolish categorizations. I think it is perfectly fine and fitting for the female gender to engage in all activities that men do. As a matter of fact, it is my observation that they are often far more adept in those than their male counterparts, anyway." He placed a kiss on the back of her hand and she swallowed softly at the effect that had on her. "My concern is the roles in relationships."

"Alright. Explain," she said finally, throwing back her hair. 

He smiled slyly before he continued: "I suppose to elaborate further on an example would be more helpful."

"An example? Like?....."

"Like you and me."

She stared back in surprise, then looked away with slight unease and embarrassment. Elves were too damn bold and straightforward! "There is no you and me," she managed to say finally. 

"Yet," he added with satisfaction and ignored her stifled moan. "But let us assume that there was."

"Well....perhaps another exam-"

"If you were my woman...."

"YOUR woman? That sounds downright wrong," she cut in hastily, this whole example issue already getting on her nerves. 

"No it does not," was his rather solemn reply. "Which would make me your man. I think you need to shed your human way of thinking – a thinking that only knows possession and ownership." Feeling childish and foolish, she decided to keep silent unless something intelligent occurred to her. "Anyway....if you were my woman, I would demand you to BE a woman."

"Which means exactly what?" 

"Which means," he said, his eyes boring into hers, "that you should be the sole ruler of my heart. And I would give in to your reign without the slightest hesitation." She swallowed softly, her heart pushing against its confinements. "In return, Irulan, you would have to submit to mine." Irulan opened her mouth to reply, but halted as his expression gained a melancholic edge to it and his eyes glazed. Legolas swallowed softly and once again looked away, to the couples and groups in the restaurant, talking, laughing, listening. "All my life," he said suddenly, and it was a low and sad tone that she had not heard from him before, "I have envied the kind of couple Arwen and Aragorn were." Startled, she remained unmoving. It was the first time he had ever spoken of Aragorn. And she knew that he did not do so often. "In the deepest corners of my spirit, it is what I have always desired."

When he locked eyes with her again, Irulan found herself at a loss of words. Many moments passed between them and the waitress brought in the food, but neither made an attempt to eat. "What were they like?" she said finally with a hoarse voice, afraid that he would refuse to answer or tense at the request. 

But Legolas did neither. He looked at her for a long moment, then simply said "Perfect."

Another, shorter silence followed and not daring to continue asking, as if it was a sacred and rather private realm and not fit for questioning, she respectfully kept silent. It was a surprise that he continued without the request. "You have much resemblance to Aragorn."

Her head snapped up in surprise and she saw none of the mocking or amusement she was expecting on his face. "I-I do?"

He nodded. "I failed to see it for a time. But it is very clear to me now."

Irulan laughed nervously, feeling hot for no apparent reason. Probably because that intense gaze had imprisoned her again! She massaged her neck, not looking away from the tablecloth as the elf suddenly discovered something really interesting - Irulan was indeed much like Aragorn. And Legolas himself was an elf, and both in character and nature rather similar to Arwen. As a couple, they were not too different. Of course there were major differences - the genders were reversed, the times were very different and therefore the characters not as they would be in Middle Earth.. There were also natural differences that made each and every person unique in the first place. But the essence was there. His heart suddenly stomped with that realization. For in his mind, a calculation of the strangest nature began. If they were so similar to that pair that he had always envied and looked up to....well....perhaps Irulan and himself too could......

"Stop looking at me like that," she said suddenly and broke his trance. 

"Like what?" he said a moment later, his heart refusing to slow down and his brain reaching strange conclusions. 

"I don't know. Like....THAT. Like you mean to......to own me or something," she laughed nervously. 

Legolas though did not laugh and that only made her more nervous. And she was very nervous to begin with. "Perhaps such is my intention," was his slow reply, his face serious. 

Irulan blinked and tried mightily not to blush. Rather intimidated and cornered, she retrieved her hand and picked up the fork. Not because she felt hungry, but because it was a far safer thing to do at the moment. "Anyway," she said, giving her salad a few strokes with the cutlery, "you were making a point about women and men. And that was.....?"

Legolas, feeling shaken but dueling it far better than Irulan, gracefully picked up his own fork. "The point is, a woman should allow herself to be spoiled, admired and adored. And a man should spoil, admire and adore her. It is in each's nature and satisfactory for both." A moment later he added "She should bend to his will and he should do everything in his power to fulfill hers."

"I don't think that I would want to bend to any man's will, Legolas," she said a little tersely, finally finding the courage to look up. 

Legolas almost grinned. "I am not surprised," were his devious words. "However, I can not blame you. It is, no doubt, hard to find a man worthy of such trust." Irulan nodded curtly and began to eat her salad. Which tasted incredibly delicious, by the way. "Perhaps then," the elf said suddenly, with amusement in his tone, "your pledge will help you to overcome that stiff streak of yours?" A miracle saved her from coughing wildly. She hastily swallowed and glanced at him. The look in his eyes was downright dangerous. "After all, I am a man. And bending to my will might be good exercise for you, Irulan."

"I don't think so!" she said sharply. 

His eyebrows rose and Irulan knew that she was walking on dangerous ground. For if she proved to be stubborn or persistent in the matter, Legolas would no doubt break that persistence in the most discomforting manner. "Is your will not bound to mine now, Irulan?" came the slow question and she almost cringed at the dare in his tone. 

"It is," she said with a little defeat. 

"And will you not do all I ask of you?" 

It took her a moment to answer. 'Thank you very much for putting yourself in this position, Irulan!' said a sharp voice in her head. "I will."

Legolas suppressed a smile at her battle. No doubt that such a thing was extremely hard for a woman like Irulan. It would be impossible for Aragorn. But then....she had asked it herself. And the Valar knew that she needed a real man! Someone to take the reigns and -though it would perhaps be unwillingly on her behalf in the beginning- show her that to sit back and enjoy the ride was more pleasurable than to drive the cart herself all the time. "Good," he said finally. "For a moment I thought you meant to object." She looked up, her brown eyes betraying both annoyance and yet intimidation. "THAT would have been a terrible mistake, Irulan," he said slowly and watched the words sink in. He smiled a bright smile. "Do you like your salad?"

She blinked and looked down. "I do. It is very good," was her reluctant response. 

"Good. Let us eat, then. The Versailles is not open all day."

A spark of excitement settled into her eyes and Legolas pretended not to see it, to spare her the embarrassment. When she picked up the fork again, it was with more enthusiasm. 

****


	11. Bitter Ocean of Pain

Another chapter. This one painfully long and hopefully not boring. 

Very quick notes – interesting to see that some found Irulan submissive. I don't find her like that at all. Perhaps 'overwhelmed' would be my word for it. Or maybe Legolas is more dominant and she responds to that different. In any case, as I have said at the beginning of this story, I do not want them to be the same in every story anyway. Besides, it has been ages since I stopped being a feminist. And grew into a humanist. I think she is strong in different ways. Not the loud and stubborn and heartless kind of strong. Often in self-doubt, temperamental and full with fear, Irulan is far from a Mary Sue. And yet, I truly never thought of her as spineless. She is forceful in the face of force and gentle in the face of kindness. And last but not least, she is facing Legolas. For me, she simply stands no chance against him, no matter what. 

That does not mean that she will not stand up to him when the time comes for it. Not at all. But until then….I think as someone who has forgotten to be so, Irulan needs to learn that gentle submission is not the same thing as weakness. 

After the meal Legolas took her to a café. "I thought we were going on a tour of Paris!" she whined. 

"Of course we are. What is the haste?" was his amused reply as he held the door for her. 

"But the day is late already!"

Legolas chuckled while he motioned her to ascend the narrow wooden steps that led to the second floor, from where the rather alluring smell of baked goods and the sound of music were floating down. "There will be other days." It was with annoyance that she recalled him to be an elf and therefore, a person with a rather different perception of time. Especially compared to someone from New York! Once they reached the second floor, he opened the door of the little café for her and closed it behind them, waiting at the entrance. "You had no coffee for a rather long time. I thought you would like to have some now."

She turned to look at him, surprised. A slow frown came over her features. "True," she murmured in confusion, under his bemused observation. For someone who was addicted to coffee, Irulan had survived a miraculously long time, indeed! "I would like to!" she added, smiling. "That's very thoughtful of you, Legolas."

The elf said nothing as a petite blonde waitress walked up to them and after a short dialogue in French with Legolas (during which she could not help herself staring at this amazingly handsome blonde man), she guided them to a small, rather humble wooden table with two wooden chairs. Irulan walked there, on the way observing the clean but old and plain decoration, the blue-green walls and the wooden furniture. There was a soft music in the background and it was coming from a gramophone, not an electronic CD player and therefore hissing a little. Legolas pulled the chair for her and she sank down on it. The waitress disappeared with their jackets, hanging them on a simple hanger by the door on her way to bring in the coffee. 

"This is so different from New York," she said, gazing around the small, cozy room. "More……humane."

Again, his reply was a silent look that lasted for a few moments. "Why did you feel the need to make up something like David?" was his sudden question and caught Irulan literally off-guard. Involuntarily her eyes locked with his and she could not help staring for a moment before she looked away again. She did not answer and decided to inspect the menu (which was in French and meant nothing to her, by the way). Until he slowly pulled it from her hands and placed it away, his gaze not wavering. 

"I do not want to speak about it," she said finally, drawing invisible designs on the tablecloth as the crackling music in the background stopped and a new, more joyful song began. 

"But you will," was the determined reply. 

"Legolas," she said a moment later, "this is rather personal and-…"

"There is no such thing as 'personal' for you, any longer," he cut in and once more their gazes collided. She remained silent under his blank stare and a moment later, he continued: "I do not like to demand such things. I would much rather ask for it. But often you give me no other option."

She exhaled in frustration and did not speak right away. In between their coffee and tea arrived. To her irritation, he kept his silence after the waitress left (smiling shyly at him several times), and waited in typical elven patience. "I just felt…..I felt……" She didn't know how to continue. Because it was such an ethereal detail! Maybe, deep down inside, she didn't exactly know the reason, either. 

"You felt more confident as someone with a lover," he finished for her. And only when he said it, did she know it to be true. 

"Yes," was the surprised reply. "Yes, I guess I did. How did you….."

Legolas smiled a deft smile. "Even the blind would see with the time I have spent in the company of your kind," he sighed.

She nodded, looking him up and down. "I guess it was a rather common move," was her dry comment. 

The elf waited a moment. "There is nothing common about you," he said finally and Irulan lowered her gaze, grasping her warm mug with both hands and allowing the smell of the fresh coffee to swirl up to her. He leaned a little on the table, observing her for another second. "I suppose the common move would be for you to pretend that you have no lover. Even if you had one." 

She smiled up at him and he smiled back, slowly cupping his chin and placing his elbow on the table, giving her a more inspective and rather amused look. "Nevertheless, I am amazed that you do NOT have a lover. Why is that, Irulan?"

"Well," she said smugly, "I happen to be very selective." Once again, she was amazed by the nature and maturity of elves. Her mind lingered on the question as to how any of her former boyfriends would have reacted to the David issue. 'They would have rubbed it into my face for YEARS, no doubt!' she moaned silently. But although it was a more discomforting experience for an elf and a graver mistake on her behalf, Legolas seemed to have closed the chapter for good. No teasing. No reminding. No constant prodding. A simple question had been asked and answered, and the issue was pushed aside. Unconsciously, she exhaled in relief, feeling happy for the fact that he would not use her lie to torture her any further. 

"So I see," he mused then. A moment passed. "I want you to be my lover," he said suddenly and Irulan, who was having her first taste of her coffee, shook with a mighty cough. He got up and patted her back until she calmed down, and only then returned to his seat across her. 

When she finally managed to stifle the remnants of the incident, she looked up at him with teary eyes and he looked back, still smiling. "Is that…..is it a……a demand?" she stammered, more than a little alarmed. 

"Of course not," he said in awe. "Irulan," he added with a graver voice, "I would never place such demands; you should know that." When she exhaled with relief and then took another sip from her coffee to wash down the dry feeling in her throat, he continued: "It is a wish."

"Look Legolas," she sighed finally, "I think you are a fabulous man. I am honored and happy that you are sharing your time with me."

"Nowhere nearly as happy as I am," he whispered, and gently folded his hand on hers again. 

Irulan did not look up and decided to resume her speech before he distracted her once more: "However…….once we return to England……and the meeting…..this will……be no more," she finished with difficulty. 

A moment passed and Irulan kept her eyes on her green mug and the dark coffee reflecting her rather sad and anxious face. "Well then I will have to make sure that we never return," he said finally and her head flew up. Legolas smiled in amusement and brought up her palm for a long kiss, his eyes glued to hers, and all she could do was to remain unmoving, alarmed that he might actually be serious. "Stay with me," he said gently a moment later, ending the torture of the tension. "Stay in England. Or anywhere else. With me."

"But I…..I…..live in New York!" All right, so it was a stupid remark, but she found nothing else to stammer at the moment. "I have a job and-.."

"You do not need to work ever again," was his dismissive reply. Irulan just remained looking at him agape. "I will take care of you."

She laughed then, shaking her head. This was getting interesting indeed! "And what happens when –for this or that reason- the affair between us ends, Legolas? What will I do then?"

Her amusement vanished at the cold look he gave her. "I am no Man, Irulan," he said with a cool voice. "Do you think that I will leave you to your fate in such a case? I will take care of you," he added. "For life." She gulped down another mouthful of coffee, now overly intimidated. "I can buy a house in New York," he continued a moment later, rather displeased with that idea, but ready for such an engagement anyway. "Will you stay with me then?"

"Well....." said Irulan, her bafflement only increasing. Only two days and Legolas was already asking for too much again! "I....I don't know."

He gave her a long look. "Your work will not allow you to see me too often, will it?" he said slowly. She chose not to answer. To be honest, it wasn't easy to have a time-consuming relationship in Manhattan - the city of workaholics. "If you insist on working, I can find you dozens of jobs anywhere else in the world. And I will make sure that you will be rewarded more for your effort. And that you will have more free time. Better working environment...whatever you ask for. You can have your own work, if you want to."

Her eyes widened at that and she spoke up quickly so that Legolas would not delve into an option like that too much further: "Thank you, Legolas. That is.....most kind of you."

"Or you can stay with me and never work again."

"And do what?!" was the baffled question. 

He shrugged gracefully. "Whatever you want. There is much to do in life. You can engage in fine arts," he said, waving his arm. "You can go back to school. You can travel. Read. Write a book. Do voluntary work for others in need of it."

His speech was cut off by her laughter. The elf watched in slight amazement and a tinge of amusement as Irulan laughed a good while before she spoke: "I can not believe that you are offering me such a thing!" She smiled brightly. "Thank you, Legolas. But.....I could not accept."

He cast his gaze down then, as a sudden sadness enveloped him. "Once again, you refuse me," was the slow statement that followed.

"I do not refuse you," she said despite herself and maybe a little too hasty. It felt downright wrong for Legolas to look like that. Sad....and sort of disappointed. "I mean.....I do....but I don't." Irulan sighed in frustration. "I am just a little.....overwhelmed, Legolas!" He cocked his head and met her gaze for a silent moment. "I need time."

The elf smiled at that and placed another kiss on her palm. "How fortunate that I have a lot of that!"

She nodded in silence, not certain how to react. It was not easy to refuse or even slow down his advances when a major part of her heart actually just wanted to go ahead and be with him, no matter what the price. Her rational side, it seems, was coming less and less frequent to the picture. 'Why not?' it kept saying and though the answers to that question had been rather large in number in the beginning, they seemed to get fewer by the hour. Indeed.....why not? Irulan had always believed that life was more than just working. Or just traveling. Or having a hobby and a nice routine. Even New York had not changed that in her. She longed for more. For things that seemed out of date and useless in this century. She wanted to SHARE life with another. Sure, she wanted to travel and have hobbies, and do many things. But not always alone. 

"You are a strong woman," he said finally, his fingers still entwined with hers and she looked up to meet his clear gaze. "Your strength comes partly from you and partly from being human."

"What do you mean?" she asked in intrigue. 

"You do not fear solitude," he replied a few moments later, his gaze heavy on her. 

"Of course I do!" she chuckled. 

Legolas shook his head. "No you don't. You dislike it, yes. But you do not fear it, Irulan." His grave tone kept her from a reply and a moment passed between them. "It is because you did not live long enough to detest it. Then grow frustrated of it. Then feel pain because of it. And then, finally, fear it."

She remained silent as a deep concern came out of nowhere, and landed on her heart like a lethal arrow. Sure, she had felt excitement with Legolas. And awe. Infatuation and attraction. But never concern. And yet, at this moment, a strong urge to soothe his sorrow overcame her, because a grief like no other emanated from him. So sharp it was, that it had almost a tangible and solid aspect to it. This was a rather common phenomenon with elves, actually. Whenever they felt strong sentiments and did not control them, these feelings emanated from them in the most peculiar manner and could be sensed easily enough by all elves, and rather evidently by most humans. The more sensitive mortals, of course, felt it far stronger and could distinguish the particular sentiment easily. Others just felt comfort or discomfort, a pull or a push and acted most of the time in response to it, but unconsciously. Irulan, no doubt, was a sensitive human being. Though not overly romantic and not even very sentimental, her perception was very finely tuned and at that moment, coming face to face with Legolas' sorrow that had momentarily slipped from the reins of his control, she moved ahead and enclosed his hand with hers, very much like she had done the day before in Rome. 

Once again startled by the simple action, the elf found her gaze. "I can not imagine your pain, Legolas," she said then. "Or the pain of any Firstborn. Often I have tried, though I knew that it was beyond me. And I know you do it for us." His heart began to hammer away again and it was then that the elf realized why that was: because she had a way of slipping past all iron gates, all stone walls, all rusted fences, all threatening barbwire and then reach out and touch his spirit. It was a miracle. A phenomenon. It was pure magic and Legolas had no idea how she did what others had found impossible to do. Being an elf, he did not try to understand it further, anyway. To his mind, the ways of life could be magical and mysterious and often it was more enticing to experience them in that fashion, instead of laying them down on the surgical bed and slicing them open. 

Irulan smiled at her own silliness, not knowing that the smile instantly made him dizzy. "If it doesn't sound ridiculous, I would like to thank you for that. On behalf of all humanity. For all your years amongst us." She smiled deeper, shaking her head. 

"Coming from you, it is not ridiculous at all," he managed to say finally, a sincere smile breaking on his lips. "You are welcome." She laughed softly, feeling incredibly bewildered and exposed, but also somewhat relieved and comfortable – as strange as that might sound. "I feel no solitude when I am with you," he added then, realizing the truth of that statement and therefore saying it with a rather amazed tone of voice. 

She leaned back, happy to have an effect like that on someone. Especially someone like Legolas. For, no doubt, he was a man who needed nothing and no one. Such a thing coming from him, was an invaluable praise. "Neither do I," was her simple statement, accompanied with a shrug. Another silence visited them shortly and they remained unmoving in the bliss of it. 

After that bliss of an interlude, ever so slowly her features began to reveal a certain itching on her behalf and the elf hid his smile, already guessing why that was. Irulan looked down at her mug as her free hand played with it for a moment or two and still he did not break her struggle. Finally it was simply too much for her and she burst, the excitement and impatience evident in her tone: "We had no time to complete your telling of Italy, yesterday. Will you not tell me the rest?" 

Legolas chuckled, an uncommon joy illuminating his skies. "Do I have an option?" he said with mock desperation. 

"Not really," was her smug comment as she felt relief at his relaxed and positive attitude. "And when will you tell me of Paris?"

"Indeed," he said, smiling broader, "when will I?" She gave him a pleading look. "It seems not so long ago," he said then, narrowing his eyes and looking at her, "that Rousseau spoke to me about how a revolution was needed in France. A revolution that would bring liberty, equality and fraternity." 

Her eyes widened with excitement. "The French Revolution!" she whispered in understanding. "ROUSSEAU?" was her astonished question. 

He nodded mildly and Irulan moaned out of sheer excitement. Legolas laughed heartily at her obvious thrill, making heads turn to that exquisite sound once more. "And," he said a moment later, leaning on the table again, "he sat not far from where you are sitting, now." Irulan clasped both her hands on her mouth, stifling a mumbled "Oh my God!" and another gentle laughter shook the elf. He could not remember laughing so many times a day in his entire life! 

She waved her hand in an attempt to breathe again, took a hearty gulp from her coffee, and looked at him with expectation. "Tell me EVERYTHING!"

"Ah," he said, almost grinning now, "what shall be my prize, then?"

Irulan looked at him with a mixture of worry and excitement. "I have nothing to give!" she said with disappointment. 

Legolas gave her a long glance. "You do. I have felt much desire for it." 

She shifted a little with unease, shooting him a sidelong glance and playing with her mug. "What is it?"

He smiled brightly and perhaps also a little deviously. "A kiss."

"A w-what?!"

"Why such alarm? Will it be your first?"

Irulan turned her head with both embarrassment and discomfort. "Of course not!"

"Then you must know that it does not hurt," was the amused retort. 

Her eyes found his. "No. Don't ask for it again."

"No?" he said in gleeful surprise. It felt very strange to be refused for a kiss. Since it had never happened before. "Does a single kiss mean so much?" 

"Of course it does," was her baffled answer. 

"More than what you will learn this day?" A moment passed as she swallowed softly. "What no other can tell you?"

"That is really not a fair comparison!"

"On the one hand there is knowledge like no other to be found in all the libraries of this world," he said, disregarding her remark. "Of France. Of the Revolution. Of Bastille. Of the time before that – the time of richness and never ending Balls. The time of the Hundred Year Wars. Ah….not to mention…..Napoleon…..and the secret order of the Knights of Rosy Cruz……" Irulan swallowed again, feeling almost dizzy with his words. "About Degas. And Kant. And Sartre. He smiled at her suppressed frustration. "And on the other, a single, innocent, simple touch of lips." He waited another moment. "I always thought you as one who would sacrifice much for such information. While many humans would sacrifice much knowledge for a single kiss." He was doing it again….that traitorous art of discussion, that is! She looked away in anger. "Or perhaps you are afraid to fall under my spell?"

"Please!" snorted Irulan with half-hearted amusement. 

His eyebrows rose gracefully. "Well then?"

She stubbornly tried to tell herself that not even in return of these things, she should engage in such an act. Although his argument was beginning to make sense. AGAIN! 'Aw come on! You can not trust yourself with a single stupid kiss?!' a part of her thought. The other part immediately cut in with alarm: 'NO! Don't you dare think in that direction!' 

"Yesterday it was only dinner. Today it's already a kiss! What should I expect tomorrow, Legolas?" she said with a scolding tone. 

Only when he broke into a slow grin did she realize the implication of her words and instantly retrieved her hand to tuck back her hair behind her ear. She was aware that the blush was spreading on her face once more, but had no means to change that at the moment. 

Legolas, very amused and attracted by her shyness, prodded on: "You ARE afraid!" he said with a tone of surprise. "That is rather new for Aragorn's kin."

It was a very, very cunning move. For if one thing was common in Estel's line –and the elf was very aware of that- it was blind courage and stubborn pride. Irulan's head snapped up and, just like he expected, her brown eyes spoke of no entertainment at the moment. "I am NOT afraid," she said slowly.

He crossed his arms on his chest. "There is no shame in being afraid, Irulan. Though….." he said, his grin returning to his face, "the object of fear in this case might be somewhat….."

"I am NOT afraid!" she said, this time louder and with a certain tinge of protest. 

"All right," he said with disinterest. "If you say so."

"This has nothing to do with fear. It just is not…..proper," she insisted, more annoyed by his retreat than his prodding. She knew that it was childish to be affected by something so silly, but such challenges had always forced her into mindless battles. 

His eyebrows rose slightly and suddenly Irulan thought how similar this reaction was to Anne's – the very reaction she had always hated to see in the girl. Mainly because the twinkle in those eyes foretold the approach of a rather logical and annoying argument. "Not proper?" he said in awe. "Who is conservative and….what did you call me…..oh yes… 'stiff' now, Irulan?"

She clenched her jaws and ignored his amused pose as well as the dangerous things that pose was doing to her brain. She would not walk into a trap! She would not! 'I will ignore it. I am NOT afraid and I know that. No need to prove it to anyone!' she told herself over and over again. 'Too many times have you witnessed what your temper can do, Irulan. Let it go. Do NOT give in to it!' 

Her fury was downright attractive to the elf, who was enjoying this moment more than one would suspect. "No worries," he sighed then, "If I had known how much discomfort these….simple….things cause for you, I would not have asked. Forgive me."

"They do not cause me discomfort," bolted Irulan, although she had really, really tried hard not to speak up again. 

Not surprised by her reaction at all and expecting no less, Legolas smiled inwardly while his outer facial expression did not change in the slightest. "Of course," was his polite response. "Nevertheless, let us forget about it."

"I know that you are trying to manipulate me, Legolas."

He gave her an amazed look. "Do you think of yourself as a person that can be manipulated?" 

Irulan, more than a little annoyed with his cunningness, simply could not stop: "I don't want to kiss you," she seethed. 

"Then don't," was his gentle and calm statement. 

"But you want me to!"

"Of course I do," he said softly. 

"Yes but….." she swallowed, trying to gather her thoughts and failing miserably. The flame of irritation and that curious, peculiar anger would not die, no matter how many times she stomped on it. "I mean……." she sighed in frustration and looked away, annoyed by her own rambling. It was not fair to be put into this situation with an elf. An ELF! A meeting with them was no big deal. But such a personal and intimate setting only served confusion and uneasiness on the human's behalf and often enough, downright defeat in the matter of discussion.

He found her hand again. "I take it back," he said gently. "Perhaps it is too early." Irulan swallowed hard, keeping her mouth shut with all her might. Right now, she was very tempted to say that it was not early and perfectly alright – out of sheer, childish pride. 

But Legolas had no intentions of losing. He never did. Whenever he engaged in something, it was with the sole aim of winning. And at this moment, his personal desires only served to make that attempt stronger. From the very beginning, he had known that she would react to a demand of such nature. And he had WANTED her to react. Simply because the principle of human psyche was rather easy: Introduce something radical and you will face reaction and denial. However…..introduce something less radical right after that……and with the dislike for the former suggestion yet very much warm and sizzling, the second and seemingly innocent demand will have a very high chance of acceptance. It was with that formerly observed and tested knowledge that he acted, now: "I should have known better," he said, his tone speaking of perfect regret. "Even a kiss on the cheek upsets you greatly."

Alright now this was too much! As a mature woman, a 20th century lady, a New Yorker, an independent spirit and not to mention, Aragorn's kin, she could NOT keep her mouth shut if her life depended on it: "It does NOT!" she gasped with horror. 

Ah…the perfect timing to entrap the beast! The elf would never miss this chance! "Why dishonesty, Irulan?" he said, his tone tired. "I know that I have made you uncomfortable on the train." He waited a moment longer as her inner battle bloomed further on her face, then continued leisurely: "It is an interesting aspect in your line – this shyness and……intimidation. But I find it intriguing."

"Look," she said finally, "on the train I was just….I mean…..I was surprised, that's all. I am not afraid of a kiss on the cheek! Hell, I had relationships of much further intimacy!"

Legolas momentarily had to stomp down the incredible jealousy that flared up in him out of nowhere at that comment. He took a moment to do that and continued with perfect calmness: "Should I assume then that such an action will not upset you any longer?"

Irulan halted, suddenly afraid of what she would say to that. "Well…." she stammered, "well…..I…..I don't think that….." He just looked at her as blank as can be and she mentally waved her arms at the edge of the abyss, in an urge to regain her balance and not to fall. Further and further she tipped and desperately waved her arms some more, trying to battle against gravity. "I don't think so," she finished finally with a whisper. Behold, the graceful fall of Irulan! 

Against all his intentions not to, Legolas simply could not help himself smiling. He was aware that it was not fair to use his observations and conclusions of her character in this manner. But then…..the force of the need he felt for her could only be described as ridiculous! And after all, it was not like his actions would cause pain and torment. All she needed to do was to breach her discomfort and he would make sure that she felt nothing other than pleasure in return. In one fluid motion he stood up, pulling her up by her hand as well as he walked to her side. He dismissively removed a stack of bills from his pocket, leaving it on the table, then leaned in to place a long kiss on her cheek. 

Her heart exploded in her chest and she felt both surprised and yet expectant of it. And God knows that she had been kissed too many times and with far more intimacy to feel excited over something like this! But she did. She simply, absolutely and truly did. "Excited" was not the word for it. She felt blown away! 

Irulan, till that day, had often tried to imagine what intimacy with an elf would be like. All the hours she had read about Aragorn and Arwen, she had wondered about it. Throughout the days she had watched Cate and Jonathan and how they used to look at each other, or smile to one another or how their fingers entwined in that lazy, yet passionate fashion, she had thought about it. Once she had even dared to ask Cate, and the woman had smiled and apologized, saying that there simply was no description to such an experience. 

And finally she had reached an opinion on the matter – an opinion that she was certain to be drastically romantic and mistaken. However, at this particular moment, she knew that she had been wrong in that belief. For it was FAR more passionate than that. Far more romantic. And demanding. Yet gentle. Enflaming, yet soothing. Intimidating yet alluring. It was only a kiss on the cheek, true. But it was also more than that. When forced to find a fitting allegory for it, the track of some wild animal appeared in her mind. Though the beast itself was perhaps long gone, the imprint spoke of it. Of its height and weight. Of its pace and motive. And likewise, this simple kiss alone spoke to her momentarily – of an intimacy with Legolas that was beyond anything she could imagine. 

"Let us go," Legolas whispered finally, his heart a volcano from which liquid fire erupted over and over again. His hand did not let go of hers and his feet refused to move as he stood looking down at her baffled state.

"Let's," she said, swallowing softly. 

He sighed then and, for the sole purpose of bringing blood back to his brain, walked, pulling Irulan along. They stopped at the entrance, putting on their jackets and then he opened the door, letting her walk through. Just when he meant to step out himself, the waitress stopped him. 

"Monsieur, your change," she said in French. 

"No change. Keep it," he replied with a gorgeous smile. 

"But…" she said, throwing a baffled look at the bills in her hand, that were several times the value of their order. 

"For excellent service," he said, "on an excellent day." 

"Any time, Monsieur," she smiled then. "I hope that your night will be even more excellent."

The elf smiled again in reply. "I hope so, too," he said and left, eager to join Irulan, already feeling the distance between them too unbearable.

****

The day had grown late indeed, so Legolas decided that they should go to the Versailles and leave the rest for tomorrow. It meant another day in Paris and sure enough, Irulan had absolutely nothing against that! This trip was the best experience in her whole life – despite the unusual and sometimes intimidating rush of feelings. 

The history of France was not a particularly nice one. Though of course it had its glorious times, most of it was about plagues, war and hunger. It was perhaps one of the most chaotic places in Europe. It was the land of wealth and poverty. Of the finest cuisine and famine. Of great ideas of freedom and equality and Marie Antoinette. Of incredible art along with witch burnings and the reign of a dark and frightening Church in the Middle Ages. Of scientists like Pasteur and mystics like Nostradamus. France, it seemed, was a place of contradictions. And always of extremes. And she loved every detail of it. 

There was simply too much to tell in a day about this country. Every detail was a separate book, a novel in itself, waiting to be read. Legolas had visited France and Paris many, many times and knew an immense amount about it. Time for an elf was very different from what it was for a human. In his mind, all eras were like books on the shelves of a gigantic library and the organization of those books had a logic and order to it - which logic and order was strange and rather difficult to understand for Irulan. Fortunate for her, he had lived amongst humans too long to get carried away in his own way of telling. Therefore he tried to keep to a timeline – though it was not easy, since he had to jump back and forth in time or in his own experiences to explain certain things further or better. 

"You have met so many people! And seen so much!" she said and looked up at him as they strode through the immense garden towards another wing of the palace. The cool breeze played with the silver strands of his hair and unlike Irulan, his face showed no signs of the cold. "How did you even come close to these men and women?"

"There are very few doors that wealth and status will not open," he said matter-of-factly. "And those few usually open with looks, charm or wit." He smiled down at her and it was as fabulous as any smile can be. "I do not say that I have much of those. But certainly enough to find my way around."

Irulan chuckled and shook her head, the grip of her hand in the crook of his arm tightening a little. "So much to talk about! And so little time," she sighed, squinting her eyes to look at the majestic structure ahead of her. 

"We have all the time in the world, Irulan," was his slow and cautious reply. "Unless you want to return?"

She sighed again, feeling uneasy and shy once more. How strange that she felt it more in his presence than ever before in her life! Irulan had always been less feminine than most – living in a fast and driven city, all by herself and all that…... But with Legolas, she felt more like a woman than she would have imagined herself to be. Perhaps because he was so masculine and forced that side out of her. 

Legolas exhaled softly and watched her worry her lower lip for a moment. "The choice is yours," he said then, gently enclosing his hand on hers that remained on his arm. The woman observed a group of leaves swirling in the cool breeze, dancing like a pack of children and sighed once more. The sound of her sigh spoke of a melancholy that seemed too evident for someone of her nature. "Ask it, and it is yours," he added, not turning away from her profile. 

"I do not know what exactly I will be asking for, Legolas," she whispered almost inaudibly. 

He came to a halt and so did Irulan. "Ask for my company," he whispered, laying his palm on her cheek, his thumb caressing her cool skin. "Say you desire it. I am ready to give it to you. And everything that comes with it."

She smiled with amusement. "Of course I want your company, Legolas!" she said softly, almost as if speaking to a child. "That is more than I could hope to have."

Legolas stepped up to her then, although he was rather close in the first place. He placed a warm kiss on her forehead. "You shall have much more," he said, his heart burning and burning and burning, and his head spinning, and his mind turning……. What strange spell was this - the pain so agonizingly and brutally pleasurable? He did not move or look away and many moments passed. Never had he been so lost and dazed, and yet so uncaring about it. He found her hand and caressed it in the softest manner, looking down at her as Irulan finally felt the courage to meet his gaze. Anywhere else than Paris, they would have looked ridiculous. Here they looked.....in love. Of course either would have denied that statement, if asked. 

A couple passed by and Irulan turned in time to see them looking back at them, smiling in the most peculiar fashion. She shifted on her feet and cleared her throat, feeling more than a little exposed. The elf followed her gaze and smiled back at the couple who turned around several times, throwing them glances and speaking to each other in whispers. He placed another kiss on her palm and turned around to guide her towards the palace once more. "Ah....the Versailles!" he said, joining her gaze that wandered on the building, "Long have I not visited it! Most of my recollections here are not of the fondest nature, I'm afraid." He turned to see her shrug and grin with excitement, urging him to continue, no matter what dark tale would follow.

***

Legolas guided her through the rooms of the impressive palace and told her about the terrible intrigues and deadly plots in the royal circle. She walked amongst the fancy gold gilded furniture and the dark velvet of the curtains and the heavy grand chandeliers while a history of incest, betrayal, greed, passion, enmity, vengeance, murder and power came alive before her eyes. 

She did not like Versailles and was relieved to leave its constricting atmosphere. Only when they were back in the garden that dazzled the visitors with its vastness, did the feeling of silent dread leave her. She looked up to the bluish light of the autumn day and took a deep breath. "I already feel better," she said and turned to him, but realized that he was focused on someone else - a man walking towards them. Irulan turned completely and stood waiting, and only after the approaching figure was much closer, her trained eyes recognized him to be no man, but an elf. 

Although she had been in the company of one for days now, instantly she felt excited to be meeting a Firstborn. Legolas did not move, only shifted on his feet and placed them a little apart, clasping his hands behind his back in a leisure fashion. The man was incredibly attractive and had a masculinity to him that perhaps some elves did not emanate this openly. He had short tousled blonde hair with a modern cut, deep but sharp hazel eyes and skin that was a tone darker than the Prince's. His face carried the same high cheekbones and the prominent jawbone and these features seemed to add to his masculinity. He wore a black woolen sweater and dark grey pants – both betraying his interest in quality, which he shared with other elves. But the dark green coat on top of that along with the cream colored scarf showed a rather fun and eccentric side to him that Irulan found surprising. 

Elves, of course, had many secret codes that they used during their communication amongst mortals. They were overly subtle and perfected with time, and therefore, impossible to be read or detected by humans. Irulan did not detect either man doing a peculiar or curious move, but unknown to her, during his approach the stranger asked if it was safe to speak around her and the Prince motioned him an approval. Finally he arrived and smiled a broad smile that widened to show his perfect teeth. A slight bow followed. "Lord Legolas," he said and his voice was beautiful, but deeper than that of the Prince, "147 years it has been. And you have not aged a day!" 

The smile turned into a grin as Legolas smiled in his own charming way. "You, Baeron, have aged into tastelessness, it seems." With that his gaze wandered over the other's attire and he slightly shook his head with amusement. 

"Again, my friend, I am only ahead of my times. Better than to be behind," was the pleased reply and then both elves took the final step and shook hands by grabbing each other's wrist. 

After an exchange of elvish sentences, Baeron fixed his hazel eyes on Irulan, who was watching the conversation with utmost interest. At his piercing gaze, she actually blushed a little. "Another amazing lady, Legolas? I have walked the earth and not found a single one of the dozens you find in a century!" Irulan smiled and blushed a little deeper as Legolas said nothing in reply. Of course the mention of former ladies was the usual Baeron nudging, that also happened to be very unbecoming of elven manners. 

"Lady Irulan is not one you will find anywhere else. She is Kingskin."

Baeron's eyes twinkled at the mention of her ancestry, which denoted her lineage of Aragorn's kin and while she was expecting some kind of greeting, his hand reached out and -to her shock and amazement- gently ran through her long dark locks. She froze, observing his delicate fingers slowly reaching the end of their journey, then fanning out to grasp hers in an attempt of a handshake. When she locked eyes with him again, he did not say anything for a moment or two. "My apologies. But it was too tempting to pass by," he said almost with a whisper. 

Irulan laughed nervously, glancing at Legolas who was watching with utter blankness, though something dangerous was emanating from him. Or perhaps it was just her imagination. "No problem," she whispered in return, a little dazed. 

He scratched his chin in the most unelf-like manner then and looked at the palace standing a short distance away. "Of all romantic places in the city, why the Versailles, my friend?" was the mocking question. 

"It is where the wolves lurk," the other said with a certain implied meaning and Baeron grinned openly, showing his perfect teeth once more. 

"Only in the deepest hours of the night, dear Legolas. Evenings, we take our long missed friends and fabulous ladies to dinner."

***

Baeron was the most unusual elf. No…the most unusual creature - since he was like no elf and no human she had met before and defied all categorization. He and Legolas talked much about this and that and from the conversation she understood that Baeron was a Scout – an elf who traveled, lived here and there, and often meddled in dangerous and unusual locations with the strangest people to deliver useful information to the Council. 

Like all elves he had seen much of the world. But too far into the human domain he had wandered. Later Irulan would find out that most elves spoke of him as someone who preferred the company of mortals to the company of his own kind. Though always in great respect to the Circle and especially to Lord Legolas, (who had saved his life in a battle long forgotten in Middle Earth), he remained detached from them, roaming the wilderness instead. 

"And you, Lady Irulan?" he said suddenly, breaking her out of her daze. "How do you like Paris?"

"It is fantastic," she said, looking around the crowded restaurant that was decorated in a rather eccentric fashion. Oriental carpets covered the floors, upon which large Ottoman pillows were spread, with small tables in between. The walls were a mixture of warm hues and orange, gold and red curtains hung from here and there, granting some seclusion to the groups. Hundreds of candles adorned the tables and the walls and were the only light source in the room that also held the distinctive smell of incense. "Very sensual," she added after her inspection.

"It is, after all, the city of Love," he replied with a grin. "Certainly no better guide in that than Lord Legolas."

Irulan pursed her lips and sipped some of her wine. "I think Irulan has too many suitors as it is, Baeron," Legolas said, crossing his arms on his chest and giving the other elf a cool stare. "One more, would be one too many."

"Ah….I have no luck in the matters of the heart," he said with a tinge of sadness along with a splash of playfulness. "And I stand no chance against the finer samples of my kind," he added with a sigh. 

"Wisely put, Baeron," was the dangerous growl of the other elf and all three chuckled to it after a moment. 

"Would you like to attend the Masquerade in Vienna?" Baeron said suddenly, enthusiasm adorning his face. When Irulan looked up from her wineglass, open curiosity on her expression, he continued: "It is two days from now."

"Oh my God! How is it?"

"I think it will be very entertaining, to say the least," mused Baeron. 

She glanced at Legolas, who gave her a bemused look in return. "Well...." she said then, "I've never been to a masquerade. I don't even have a costume!"

"Ah," Baeron said, waving his hand, "that can be arranged rather easily. In fact, I have the perfect costume for you. That is, if you wish to attend."

The woman laughed out at that. "I would LOVE to! But.....I guess we will have to return to England."

Legolas leaned forward and held her hand, under the curious and amused gaze of Baeron. "Anne said that some Council members were delayed. I suppose we will have time."

She looked from one elf to the other and back. The temptation to do something crazy, to turn her back to the Council and Cate and Jonathan and Anne and everyone else, rose in her. In her younger years, Irulan had been quite bold - especially in things like this. Perhaps not very spontaneous, but daring and determined. And often she missed those times. What was true freedom, if not the fact that you could risk everything in a single instant? She would be late for her work in New York. Her boss, who already complained more than enough about the days she was taking off, would no doubt cause some serious trouble. But in that instant those things did not seem too important. She wanted to let go and remain with Baeron and Legolas and talk and travel with these incredibly interesting elves. The fact that she would never ever get a chance like this again was an incredible motivator, pushing her to take the step.

"Say yes, Irulan," smiled Baeron, looking more attractive than ever. "This masquerade is not one you would want to miss. And I promise good company," he added with a wink. 

She bit her lower lip and waited, two opposites clashing in her. The responsible and rational Irulan challenged the impulsive and intuitive one and the duel was very bloody. The feeling of Legolas' fingers caressing her hand made her look up to meet his eyes. "I would demand it of you. But I think you should make your own choice."

"I want to stay," she whispered finally, her gaze momentarily resting on her glass before she raised it and looked from one man to the other. "I do."

Both elves smiled in unison and in such similar fashion, that she could not help to smile back in amazement. "Then we shall stay," The Prince said gently, the warm pulse of his hand on hers growing slightly. 

"Wonderful!" exclaimed Baeron. "I have the perfect costumes for all of us!"

Irulan laughed again, feeling excited out of her wits - more due to the fact that she had chosen to stay, than the masquerade itself. "I can't BELIEVE I am doing this! You elves have a terrible influence on us, I tell you! How will I ever go back on this freedom and fun?"

"Perhaps you won't," said Legolas suggestively and she smirked at him, afterwards grinning out of pure joy. "Allow me to call the castle for recent news," he said then, rising from his seat. "I won't be long."

He strode away to use the phone and Irulan's gaze followed him until he disappeared amongst the shower of red, blue and orange curtains and the mist of the incense. Perhaps it was the atmosphere of the place. Or too much wine. Or simply the glee of the moment, but her thoughts once again dwelt on his beauty and charm. A strength was emanating from Legolas. A strength that none other in this room -with that, her eyes wandered around it, taking in the people scattered here and there, half hidden amongst the linen curtains- possessed. Until her gaze met the hazel look of Baeron's. 'Except perhaps one other,' she thought then, her lips curving into a smile. 

The smile received one in response and the elf leaned on the small table between them, stretching lazily and placing his elbow on the furniture in a leisure manner. "He likes you," he said, the smile widening further. "A lot." Irulan diverted her gaze to the wineglass and found nothing to say. She shrugged and took a sip from it. "For a woman of such strength and presence, you certainly lack self-confidence, Irulan," he added a moment later.

She glanced at him briefly with mock irritation. "I just find it hard to believe that someone like Legolas.....or any elf, for that matter, would find interest in me."

"Hmmmmm...." Baeron mused, playfully placing his chin in his palm and giving her a long look. "And why is that?"

The wine was getting to her senses, indeed. Irulan laughed softly with the effect of it before she answered: "I am not graceful. Or beautiful." She shrugged, taking another look at the room. "I am not wise beyond my years or anything. Hell....I doubt that I'm even mature." She shrugged the third time, failing to find other words to say. 

Baeron laughed a musical laugh and shook his head. "Humans! How I love you all!" He halted a moment, inspecting her in that most annoying penetrating manner that all elves had a habit of doing. "An elf would tell you that, if a peacock, a dolphin or a jaguar could speak, they too would say the same thing. An elf would say that beauty is not something that one is apt to see in oneself. That it is only visible to the outer eye." He grinned at her slight blush that could easily be from the alcohol, but that he knew to be from her shyness. "*I*, on the other hand, would say that you are right."

Irulan, momentarily shocked by that reply and not certain if he was joking or not, remained staring at him with raised eyebrows and an open expression of curiosity on her face. 

He leaned in further, not blinking as the distance between them diminished drastically. "And that you are immensely attractive because of it." The woman just stared at him in surprise, then slowly leaned back to clear the distance between them. It was not easy for a human to be in the company of such creatures and remain in total control, and often she found herself backed into uncomfortable corners. "There is nothing more attractive than an attractive woman who has no care about her attraction," he added with a slow grin and watched her run her hand through her hair, in an attempt to shake off the effect of the wine. A useless attempt, since the music and the incense and the dim lightning and the warmth of the room only added to its intensity. "You, Irulan," he said, his voice lowering even further, "are a very attractive woman." He gave her another look before he continued: "Are you Lord Legolas' lover?"

She swallowed down the wine before it could spray out of her nose. Elves were straightforward. But Baeron was even beyond that! "No!" she managed a moment later. 

His eyebrows rose gently. "But he is courting you." It was half question, half observation. She chose not to reply that as the elf gave her a long look. The mystical music playing in the background swept between them like a breeze and Irulan tried very hard to stay focused, against the pressing effect of the alcohol. "I envy him," Baeron said finally. "And it is not the first time I do so." 

Another moment passed and when a look in that direction told her that Legolas was nowhere in sight and was not about to return, she replied: "Thank you. I.....am a little bewildered. At all this attention that I am getting." The statement was followed by a nervous chuckle. 

"I would never court you while he does, Irulan," he said gently and her breath caught when his fingers glided once over hers in the softest and most ethereal of touches. "Even *I* have enough manners not to do such a thing. Especially to Lord Legolas. But...." with that he looked up and Irulan was caught in his hazel gaze instantly, "....I would feel honored to do so, if life should part your roads for this or that reason."

She remained looking at him, baffled beyond words and action. Why did it feel wrong? No doubt that Legolas was not her lover. And nobody said that he would be. And yet, even though it was very gentlemanly and well-mannered and sincere, Baeron's offer felt wrong. It felt almost indecent. 'Don't be silly! You are an independent woman! You could choose an affair with this elf right this moment, if you wanted to! You have no ties to Legolas," said a part of her mind. But another part just shifted with discomfort, not sure why that was. 

The elf took out a pen from his bag and wrote a series of numbers on the napkin. Then, folding it, held it out to her. "You can find me in either of these. I will be a very happy man the day you call."

Silly, but she glanced towards the entrance again and still there was no Legolas. "Well....I....," she begun, torn in indecision and the ridiculous lack of understanding why that was. 

"I shall not ask for yours," he said then, a gentle smile invading his lips. He reached out and took her hand, turning it to place the napkin into her palm, then gently folding her fingers close. "For it will be your choice. And I make no promises or set no standards. But....I am very willing to give it a try, King-daughter," he finished with a low voice. He released her hand and she slowly retracted it, looking at the crinkled napkin in it. "Know also that I will feel no dislike for you if you choose not to call." He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "And no surprise, either!" Their gazes met again. "And yet....," was the gentle addition, "I had to try. Because hope, dear Irulan, is a mighty force."

The smile Baeron gave her then was too fabulous for a mere description. It held amusement as well as sadness; understanding as well as rebellion. She smiled back in return, liking him even more for it. She took the napkin and folded it one more time, then placed it into her jacket pocket. 

"What costume will I wear?" she said suddenly, in an effort to change the topic. "Can I be Joan of Arc?"

The elf laughed softly and the waitress who had just arrived to bring in another candle for their table, blinked and momentarily froze at that, her looks glued to the blonde man. A few moments later she regained her wits and replaced the item, leaving the table in confusion and looking back several times over her shoulder. "I should have known that you would pick her!"

"Well...we are in France, after all. And she had a glorious life!" she grinned. 

He leaned slightly back and looked at her for a moment. "A glorious life," he said slowly, as his eyes glazed for a moment. "And a pitiful death." A moment passed as Irulan felt his mood shifting ever so slightly and chose to remain silent. "Yet," he said finally, his eyes focusing on her once more, "she did not cry out till the flames took her and her body and mind snapped. Even though all had deserted her. Her king. Her country. Her followers...." a momentary silence, "....her God."

Her eyes widened slightly when she understood the meaning of his words and all she could do at the moment was to swallow. His gaze was heavy on her, and she saw a deep sadness in it, although that coy smile had not left his features. The excitement to urge him to tell was incredible, but Irulan pressed it down mercilessly, afraid to stir something that was better left unsaid. She shifted once. Twice. Then took another look around and finally managed to choke out the words: "You.....you met...her?"

Baeron's smile did not change. Nor did he move. But something shifted in the very air between them, ever so slightly. It was too small a thing for her perception and lasted too short to be dwelt upon. "I did. On her final day. She thought I was an angel," was his gentle reply. 

Irulan blinked. Slowly, but with certainty the hairs on her arms rose and a shudder overcame her. She felt the warm surge of wine through her veins and heard the beating of her heart. But other than that, the moment became timeless as they sat there, hanging in limbo. The environment and the music and all the people were forgotten and for that moment, all that there was to the world was Baeron's handsome face as the candlelight played on it. She did not know how long they sat so, but finally it was him who spoke once more: "I sang to her on her last night in the prison cell. And she thought I was an angel," he repeated bitterly, suddenly looking away. 

That break of eye contact made Irulan gasp for no apparent reason. Once more she shuddered, although she felt more hot than cold. Unconsciously she tilted her head, seeking out his gaze again, but Baeron did not respond. There is was again…..a bitter, constricting sadness, pulsing out of him and crashing on her shore like the waves of a dark ocean. It became almost tangible in essence and Irulan felt it seeping into her own spirit. It came over her again and again and again…..pulse….pulse…pulse….waves…..salty and cold. She sat unmoving, barely daring to breathe. "What did you tell her?" she heard a whisper and only after having said it, she realized that she herself had spoken. 

The man sighed audibly and turned his gaze on his wineglass as his fingers began a silent play with it. "I told her that she was right," he said finally, his voice less emotional and more controlled. He looked up and she remained absolutely motionless, eager to keep his gaze on herself and downright afraid to lose it. "That I had come to ease her passing." Another chuckle rose from him and he gulped down the remnants of his wine before he pushed the glass aside and leaned in on the table, placing his forearms on it. "She was a child in a woman's body, Joan of Arc," he mused, a broken smile on his lips, though his tone lacked the sadness this time and only reflected bitterness. "And it was hard not to envy her for it." He smiled broader when Irulan swallowed hard, a slight tremble moving through her as she gave in further and further to the strange lullaby. "How she had managed to come that far in life, remains a miracle to me. Perhaps because it was a different time and the world cared less for the things it cares for, today." Another silence followed, and Baeron took a lazy look around the room before he continued: "Nevertheless, I was with her on her last day." Once again his eyes glazed and several moments passed. "I remember. It was chilly. And so....dull. And I remember her pain and anguish. So lost.....like a little child." His hazel gaze locked on Irulan's once again and strange enough, a sound came with it. No…..no sound. Since she was certain that her ears had perceived nothing. Yet there it was….like a suction along with the bang of a distant door. "She stared into my eyes till the very end. And I hope she found the ease of pain she hoped she would."

There was suddenly extreme silence as the echo of that sound died out and Irulan passed into a state when she was not sure if she was dreaming or actually living the moment. A haze came over her mind while she sat, astounded and not blinking, trying to understand why that was. Like smoke sweeping over water, it glided over her, around her and with an inhalation, into her. The sadness expanded. It stretched, stretched and stretched, and like a seed from which suddenly many minuscule roots shot out with urgent speed, it sprouted into anger and frustration and bitterness and sorrow and anguish and pain and pain and pain and pain….

She did not see his gaze sweeping over her features and did not perceive it when Baeron reached out slowly, stretching his fingers, and finally touched the corner of her eye. Only upon the contact did Irulan feel the wetness that stood between his skin and hers and blinked both in surprise and in bafflement. Why she would cry to a memory like that, was beyond her. For she was not a very sentimental person. She hardly cried for books or movies that moved so many. And yet....the sorrow settled on her like a dark garment, warm and chilly at the same time. And the sadness became her own, and the pain became unbearable and the bitterness was like her skin and anger was her flesh and torment lashed like blood in her veins and hate pumped in and pumped out and pumped in and pumped out…. 

She blinked again, trying to gather back her mind. 'It must be the wine,' she thought distantly. 'It must be all the overwhelming things that have happened in such a short time! It must be the company of elves. And the city of Paris!' But it was none. 

His fingers glided down her cheek, leaving a wet trail behind while his eyes did not release her even for a single moment. Only when he reached her jawbone, did they depart and break the touch. Baeron said nothing and his face was that elven blankness that she found impossible to see through. He took back his hand, placing it on the table while his eyes did not look away from her as her own fingers replaced his and wiped at the fluid on her cheeks with disbelief. She looked down at them, trying to understand how this was possible. 

It was then that a shadow landed on her and Irulan blinked once again in an effort to wake up from her trance. On its own accord, her head slowly tilted and her eyes met the fierce fire of Legolas as the elf stood looming over her, the light coming from his back and leaving his face in shadow – other than his sparkling blue eyes that seemed even more alive at the moment. And yet, she failed to return to the present and understand the happenings around her. As a result, certainly she also failed to read his expression that spoke of surprise, alarm and sharp anger. 

Again she blinked and again she tried to return. Her brows furrowed and her lips slightly parted as she tried to say his name, in hope that it would break her away from the alluring glow of the flames that burned and burned and burned and filled the heavens with that awful stink. She felt his cool fingers on her chin, lifting it to take a better look at her and she tried really hard and harder but her fingers slipped and slipped further and slipped some more. 

Then the strangest thing happened. For he spoke, and it felt as if the whole world was ringing with his voice. No, as if the world was MADE of his voice, no matter how gentle and low the whisper. "A cuivie (wake up)," he said and the words etched into her mind like a knife etching into soft, pink flesh. They meant nothing. Nothing but a call that made her turn from the horrible cries that rang that chilly day as the flames hissed and the crowd roared and the wind whined and the trees swished and the shouts echoed and the pile of wood crackled and the crows croaked and the chanter boomed and the hooves clanked and the bells swung and…… "A entulesse (return), Irulan!" Legolas said, his voice inhuman in its texture, "ta nwalya ea il doost ten colin (this pain is not yours to bear)."

She blinked again, and this time the music came back, as well as the soft murmur of the background and the smell of food and incense and perfume. One more blink and her sense of time slowly returned, as well as her memories. She took a deep breath. "Legolas!" she whispered, her eyes completing the gaze around the room and finding his again. Why had she thought of him as a dark shadow with piercing blue eyes? He looked rather ordinary at the moment. His fingers were still on her chin and his look was still on her face, but other than that, the strange feeling she had believed to emanate from him was no more. "Legolas!" she croaked again, tilting her head back to break the contact, and rested her face into her palms. 

Legolas placed his hand on her head, caressing it with the gentlest touch. He looked at Baeron and the blank look on his face could rival his. For an outside observer they might seem mirror images. But for an elf much was displayed there to read. Many moments passed. "King-daughter shared my pain," the other said finally with a sigh, and his voice held the mildest tinge of sadness as well as surprise.

The Prince's eyes blazed, but other than that, he remained utterly motionless. Only his fingers continued their caress of her hair while Irulan slightly tilted back and forth, trying hard to regain her wits. The wine was spreading still, surging through her like a strange whisper. She felt him sinking down onto the pillow next to her and his hands gently removing hers. Then she found herself face to face with him and his hands rested on her cheeks as he gave her a long, inspecting look. "I……I think I….." she whispered, swallowing in between words, but he stilled her with a kiss on the forehead. "Come," he whispered, smoothly pulling her up. Her slight sway was probably more due to the alcohol than anything else. 

She did not know where he was leading her until they ended up in front of the bathroom. "Go on," he said, one last time caressing her cheek and motioning to the door. "Wash your face. You will feel better. It is over now." 

She nodded, not really understanding what was over or what had happened in the first place. "I think….it was the wine," she said, wiping her forehead. "Don't wait. I'll come to the table," she added a moment later, then went in. 

By all means, Legolas meant to return! He strode to the table with such slow but steely determinism, that the aura made everyone unconsciously cringe and step away from his path. Though he looked rather ordinary and common, his emotions marked him as a real threat and danger and all cleared his way, moving aside. "What do you think you are doing?!" he hissed once he reached it and stood looming over Baeron. 

The other elf slowly stood up as well, facing Legolas for a moment, slight alarm in his stance. His head dropped and his hand traveled to his heart. "Forgive me, Lord Legolas," he said slowly, then met his eyes again. "I meant no intentional harm." They remained like that for a moment or two, until both almost simultaneously remembered that they were not in a secluded room but in a crowded restaurant. "Please….." said Baeron, his hand gracefully motioning to the Ottoman cushions across him. 

Legolas took a slow breath and, not diverting his eyes from the other elf, assumed his place while Baeron sank into his. They remained silent for another moment or two. "I did not suspect her reaction. It was foolish of me. Forgive me, my Lord."

An icy stare was the reply as the Prince, with the leisure threat of a panther, leaned in and placed one forearm on the table flat before him. The candlelight bounced of his sharp features and his silver blonde hair. "She is Kingskin!" he seethed. "How can you be so careless?"

Baeron took a deep breath and pursed his lips. "Her beauty clouded my mind." And that was an even worse thing to say as the Prince's blue eyes lit up with deep fury. The other man looked away, a tired expression on his face. "I fell prey to the desire of Sharing. It has been lifetimes since it happened. I guess I missed it more than I thought."

"Your selfish desires put her in grave danger!" was the utterly calm but hostile reply. 

Baeron hung his head again in an act of submission. "True. I regret it. It will not happen again," he said, leaning back and focusing on his glass as he slowly turned it clockwise, then counter-clockwise. Legolas crossed his arms on his chest. He chose to remain silent. Mainly because his fury was boiling in his veins. It was not a good idea to speak when one was so angry. "I know she means much to you," Baeron resumed then, his gaze not seeking his. "And I would never harm the line of the King. It was a mistake and one that I hope to be buried and forgotten."

The other elf grinded his teeth, his eyes still fixed on him while Baeron refused to make eye contact. "Nothing we burry remains forgotten, Baeron," was his tired sigh of a reply a moment later. 

The Scout only nodded to that. "The earth can only hold that much," came the bitter comment. 

After that neither spoke again. The past slid between them like a venomous snake and each retracted into their shells, not daring to risk a confrontation with it. Too many times they had been bitten by it. And each time it had been an experience of deep torment and fear. Their silence continued, an absolute contrast to the music and laughter and conversation around them.

****


	12. Ode to a New Journey

Irulan looked up into the mirror. She seemed rather pale. But other than that, not worse than usual. She placed her fingers on her cheek and watched them slide down in the reflection, following the path Baeron's had laid a few minutes ago. At the end of their journey she swallowed and once again looked down at the sink and the flowing water. A final time she splashed her face, then turned it off and leaned in, supporting herself on her arms, her gaze cast downwards. 

At that moment one of the doors banged shut in the bathroom and she jumped at the sound that reminded her so much of what she had heard when...when... Unconsciously she looked up to the mirror again. The pale reflection was staring back at her. Her brown eyes seemed even darker in the lighter tone of skin. Drops of water were running down her cheeks and had settled on her forehead. She sighed and wiped away the strands of hair that stood plastered on her temples. 

The woman responsible of the banging door came to stand before the sink next to her and gave Irulan a small smile before washing her hands. Irulan just stared back at her reflection. She was beautiful; with black hair and prominent, shapely black eyebrows. She was wearing a red top and red lipstick to go with it. An excellent contrast to her own paleness. Irulan sighed and looked away again, pulling out some paper towels to dry her face. 'What happened?' she thought for the fifth time since she had entered the bathroom. 'Baeron was talking to me. He was telling me about...about Joan.' She halted, the crumbled paper towel forgotten in her hands. Her hesitation was not for any particular reason, but a fearful expectation of that terrible pain. She held her breath, waiting for its impact, mentally cringing into a corner. 

But it did not come. Irulan exhaled very slowly in relief and threw the towel away. 'That happens when you drink too much wine!' she thought to herself, annoyed. 'You made a fool of yourself! Some grown-up woman!' Having wasted enough time, she sighed and strode out, the music and odors of the salon instantly enveloping her and changing her mood for the better.

When she arrived at the table, both elves jumped to their feet and only sat once she sank down on her own pillow. She looked from one to the other, and wondered if the tenseness that seemed to hang in the very air was her own imagination or real. "Was I long?" she said, merely to speak and lift the stagnant air. In truth, she had no idea how long she had been away. It could have been minutes, or it could have been days. Her sense of time was rather messed up at the moment, but Irulan was not too aware of it. 

Legolas, surprised that she seemed to be so recovered in such a short time, placed his palm on her cheek again, turning her face to look into her eyes. She swallowed softly, as he gazed into them for a moment or two. "I am fine," she said finally and smiled a little to convince him. He hesitated a moment, then leaned in to place a kiss on her cheekbone and that was the moment when Irulan thought that she was not strong enough to endure the company of two elves. The constant switch from fire to ice, from storm to calm, from heaven to hell would crack the toughest pot. 

"Forgive me," Baeron cut in and she turned to see him looking at her with a penetrating gaze. "It was my mistake. It will not happen again."

She gave him a long, surprised look. Then another to Legolas, who did not return his gaze to the man, but remained focused on her profile, his fingers gliding down her hair. Which was extremely distracting by the way, but she managed to ignore it for the moment. And finally it dawned on her that it had NOT been the wine or anything else. Her heart broke into a gallop at the realization of what had happened. Something that she would have never imagined to happen to her. Never ever! "You...y-you Shared with me!"

Baeron nodded once. "I have. And I ask for forgiveness."

A moment of silence passed. Then another. Baeron's eyes remained fixed on her. Legolas kept gently combing her hair. The background music continued. 

The fact that Irulan had gone through something that only very, very few people were seen fit to experience, blew her mind. An elf had actually SHARED with her! Her breath caught in her throat. He had allowed her to share a memory! No...that was a lame way to put it. Sharing was so much beyond that! It was an intimacy beyond anything for an elf. And invaluable for a human. No doubt that many Circle members would kill to be in her place right now!

It was an incredibly rare phenomenon. There were times when elves lost control of their sentiments and allowed them to flow freely. In these cases there was some sort of sharing for the more sensitive humans and it involved the current perception, sentiments and state of the Firstborn. But…the real Sharing was nowhere accidental. It required utter control and care and was the sharing of memories. She had never heard of any occasion that was performed this spontaneous, and no doubt that Baeron regretted it greatly, for it was dangerous indeed. But then...he was a spontaneous elf. 

"Do it again!" she whispered finally. All motion stopped instantly. The world froze in the strangest silence as the look of both Firstborn almost bore holes into her. "Do it again," she said then, her voice slightly shaky but a little more audible. 

"Irulan!" said Legolas, his tone both alarmed and baffled. "You could have lost your sanity!"

"Yes but," she said and wiggled a little as his hand grasped her upper arm, "but...I didn't!" Once again she turned to Baeron: "Have you seen Degas? Have you met Kant? Can you Share with me? Please?!" The elf just looked at her, amazed. No doubt that it was a highly intimate and unbecoming thing to ask from them. But at this point, Irulan was too excited to think of manners. Suddenly there was a slight pain on her arm as Legolas squeezed it strong enough to gain her attention. "Enough!" he hissed. "It will not happen. Never again!" Unwillingly she turned to him and was instantly speechless at the intensity of his gaze. Her mouth opened and closed several times, finding no words. "This is no game!"

"But...but Legolas!" she protested finally, her childish excitement making it impossible for her to remain motionless in her seat. "You have seen Caesar! And King Louis! And you have seen the great battles! Share with me!"

The disbelief and shock in his eyes was, no doubt, the rarest sight. Baeron's sudden chuckle made them both turn to him once more. "I think I am in love," he grinned with amusement, then laughed softly, shaking his head. At Legolas' furious gaze he shrugged and laughed even harder. 

The other elf took a deep breath and forced the woman to look back at him. "Irulan, this is wrong. It is dangerous for your kind. Baeron here…," he said and gave the other –still chuckling- elf a sidelong glare, "…no doubt felt incredible relief as a result. For you it will mean only pain and disturbance. You do not understand its impact yet. But it will become evident in time. Do not ask for such a thing again."

She stared at him with frustration and turned her pleading looks to Baeron, who was grinning at the couple. "He is right," he sighed finally.

"I am tougher than that!" was her disappointed and stubborn (not to mention, stupid) reply and forced another, this time even louder laugh from the elf across her, making heads turn in their direction.

"And more precious," Legolas seethed in reply, the determination in his voice rather evident. "I will not allow you to waste yourself like this."

"But Tolkien Shared! Many people Shared with elves!" 

"Under high control, yes. With utmost care, yes. Not like this! And even then it was too much to bear for some!"

"But Legolas..."

"Irulan, enough!" he said and his tone said that it was final. It also reminded her right away of her pledge. She swallowed hard and cast her eyes down with a deep sigh. A reluctant nod followed as she gave in to his wish. And to logic, of course. 

Baeron remained silent and observant as Legolas released her arm and looked away. He had no intentions of revealing her pledge to the Scout – that concerned only the two of them, no other. A moment later he continued in a milder tone: "Perhaps we should go. It has been a long day and you are tired, no doubt." She nodded in submission and he turned to Baeron to discuss the Ball and how they should meet in Vienna two days later. Finally he rose to his feet and gently grasping her elbow, pulled her up as well. 

He helped her to put her jacket on and finally the woman approached Baeron, who was smiling down at her. Strangely, she felt so much closer to him now. Actually it was not strange at all, since the intimacy of Sharing was incredible. "You have taken a great amount of my pain, King-daughter," he said slowly. "There is nothing superior you can do for an elf."

"I am honored," she whispered, looking into his hazel eyes. 

To Legolas' utter dislike he asked Irulan if he could run his hand through her hair again and she agreed, of course. The Prince watched with sharp impatience as Baeron combed his hand through it, the pale digits delving into the dark locks. Irulan had a curious and almost amused expression on her face and observed the elf's features that berated astonishment. "Curse of the times," Baeron said then, "Women don't grow their hair this long anymore."

"Good thing too," was Legolas' icy reply. "Or you would be doing this to each and getting into trouble, no doubt." Unable to hold it in any longer, he grasped Irulan's hand and pulled her away from the other elf who blinked and gave him a look that soon melted into amusement. 

They parted then and Legolas placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her out of the restaurant. After waiting a short while at the entrance a cab was hailed for them and a few moments later they were driving towards the hotel. Dazed by both what had happened and the realization of the nature of it, Irulan remained silent as the colorful streets of Paris washed by her. 

Legolas held her hand and smiled in silence when she turned to look at him. Neither spoke and not too much later they arrived and he led her through the lobby. The receptionist told him that another room was available now, but he turned it down. He would never leave Irulan alone this night. Her Sharing was too new and who knew how deep her reaction to it would be? 

Irulan stepped into the room, swaying a little. From the happenings of the day (let's not exclude the David issue here) or the wine, she could not tell. The elf guided her to the bedroom. "Take a shower, Irulan. It will make you feel better. Call me if you need anything."

She nodded and gathering the clothes she would wear, dragged herself to the bathroom. And the shower did indeed make her feel much better. Though it took nothing from her fatigue, it cleared her mind and lifted the dread that had been on her spirit. Finally she put on her pajamas, pulled her hair to a simple bun, and walked into the bedroom.

Or rather, she managed to take one step, then remained rooted. Was this the same bedroom? It seemed VERY different with the dozens of candles lighting its darkness. Unconsciously she took another step, her gaze wandering around the chamber, her lips parted with awe. So amazed was she by the unexpected setting, that she walked right into the elf, who appeared out of nowhere. 

"Ouch, Legolas!" she said, jumping a little, "Watch where I'm going, will you!"

He chuckled softly, then touched her temple and locked eyes with her. "Tell me how you are feeling."

"Good," she said, giving the room another inspecting gaze. "I am fine. Just a little…tired." It sounded better than "drunk". Legolas smiled and nodded, then grasped her elbow and slowly guided her to the bed. "What happened to the room?"

"I prepared it for you," he said with a killer smile, "the light of fire will relax you."

"Will it?" was her somewhat nervous reply. He motioned for her to lie on the bed that stood with the covers peeled aside. 

"What did Baeron show you?" he said, suspicious by her answer. 

Irulan's gaze did one more tour over the flickering candles and when she felt her heart speed up for no apparent reason, she hastily diverted her gaze from the fire. Her eyes met his as he stood by the bed in his cream colored soft cotton outfit and looked down at her with silent expectation. "He…he met…Joan of Arc," she replied, her voice a bit hoarse. 

A slow but steadfast understanding bloomed in his face and after a moment or two Legolas carefully sat on the edge, then pulled himself up to lie on his side, facing her as he diminished the distance between them. It was like a single, flowing and utterly graceful movement, and the woman watched it with fascination as the natural manner of it made her forget to pull back when he finally settled inches from her, propped up on his elbow and looking down at her. "Irulan," he said gently, his other hand gliding over her cheek once more, his crystal blue eyes looking fabulous in this light. "Do not dwell on it. It was long before your time. You were not meant to see it."

His hand glided over her shoulder, down her arm, then along her side to settle on her waist. But she did not feel it as her eyes glazed and she, too, raised herself on her elbow like his mirror image. A long moment they remained like that, Legolas watching her carefully as she remained in deep thought. "What horrible creatures we are!" she whispered finally and the elf remained frozen by the tone of sadness in her voice. Irulan met his eyes and his heart wrenched at the tell-tale signs of tears building up there. "The things we have done!"

Alarmed by her sorrow and grief, he cupped her cheek. "You once told me that hunger, war and pain is not all there is to the world. Do you remember?" Irulan blinked in surprise, the pull of melancholy broken by that unexpected intervention. "You were right." He sighed, his thumb gliding over her cheeks and her lips as she just stared back, oblivious to the touch. "I have seen much cruelty and dread. But I will not deny that I have seen much greatness and beauty as well." The glow of the candles was traveling over her silk pajamas like ripples on water. Her skin was a darker shade in the light and for a moment he remained stupefied, looking into her eyes that were like dark pools in which golden flames danced. She smiled a broken smile and the elf swallowed softly at the charm of that. 

A deep silence settled between them, and only then Irulan realized the intensity of his gaze and the proximity of their bodies. She looked away and shifted slightly, betraying her intention of moving away when his grip landed on her waist once more. "Stay," he whispered and just the way he said it made her heart explode in the most unexpected manner. 

Once, Irulan had been a different woman. The clouds of doubt and insecurity that traveled her skies so often these days were no source to block her sunlight in those times. The chilly gust of fear was not so ever-present in her tundras. She had been bold once. Unafraid of taking steps. Intimidated by neither beginnings, nor endings. 

Life had taken that fearless little girl and twisted it into something fragile and weak. Where was the bold little child? Where was the rebellious teenager? The uncaring adult? 

'I am still her,' she thought suddenly. Out of nowhere, a protest and rebellion rose in her – to all that had been taken from her and to all that had been placed into her instead. 'I am still her!' she thought again, the determination in her growing. 'And I want her back!'

A voice in her head laughed at such childishness. No doubt that Irulan was getting carried away here. Probably due to the alcohol. And the sizzling atmosphere of Paris. Not to mention, the warmth of Legolas against her own body! 

Time stretched as she remained in indecision at the very crossroads that -unknown to her- Legolas had stood at, not too long ago. But unlike his case, she knew exactly which one meant danger, and which one meant safety. Unfortunately that did not make her choice any easier. Not at all. 

'An immortal!' screamed her common sense. 'Are you insane?! Have you forgotten what that means?!' She sighed in frustration. 'You know where this road is leading. No surprises there, Irulan. There can never be happiness for you in this direction. Do not step onto it!' True. But the other path held no happiness either. Only safety. And boredom. And a life full with regrets of untaken chances. 

Finally what tipped Irulan's scales was, ironically, the same thing that had made the decision for Legolas: Exhaustion. She was tired of being safe and whole. She was tired of being comfortable but alone. She was tired of walking through life as if walking through a museum - always on tiptoe. Always admiring but never touching. Always looking but never feeling. Always dreaming but never really taking the step. 

She looked up to see his crystal blue eyes inspecting her with patience and perhaps a tinge of alarm. It was with fascination that she watched her own hand traveling up then, ever so slowly, floating between them in hesitation, like a gull hovering in a gust of wind over the blue, sparkling ocean. Legolas did not move. Nor did his eyes leave hers. But nevertheless, a sharp waiting and concentration pulsed out from him. Only a moment's hesitation, then it finally rested on his chest. Still he did not move, even though the warmth of her palm against his cotton sweater and more so the contact of her fingertips on his bare skin was devastating to say the least. 

There it was, at last. Her approval. Her acceptance. Her 'yes'. And with it came an incredible joy that he had not felt for the longest time. It was no formal declaration. No spoken word. No open explanation. But it was as subtle and graceful as any step could be. He did not care why it meant the world to him. He did not care why it felt like a divine blessing. Why it felt as if he had just proposed her and she had accepted. Legolas blinked, momentarily confused by that strange allegory. 

Irulan was confused, too. And rather afraid. But at the same time, happy with her choice. She had chosen Legolas. She had chosen to let another in to this old and rusted mansion that was her heart. She had chosen to give love another chance. 'Love?!' she thought, startled. A sudden excitement exploded in her with that word, but she did not get to dwell on it further as Legolas sighed softly and placed his cheek against hers. His hand that had been on her waist slowly glided to the small of her back, then traveled up to rest between her shoulder blades and pressed her to himself. 

This time it was not discomfort, but only slight embarrassment that bloomed in her when Legolas began to place long and searing kisses on her cheek and her neck. She stifled a moan at the incredible pleasure of it and remained unmoving. His kisses traveled over her face, at times passionate and desperate, immediately afterwards tender and innocent and they were a perfect reflection of the chaotic battle in him. 

But he did not go further. Not tonight. She was, after all, intoxicated both by the wine and the Sharing and –though the passion in him screamed for him to do so- he would never take advantage of that. Also, he would not risk all he had achieved till this point for a mere moment of haste. Once he tilted back again, the smile on his face could have made the sun jealous – so sincere and sparkling it was. 

"Some day I shall tell you of those merrier moments," he said slowly, his fingers entwining with hers once more. "But not this night. This night you will rest." Irulan, too dazed to come up with a reply or protest, remained silent. His eyes glided over her features and ended at her bun. "What crime is this?" was the question that carried a tired and scolding tone to it. 

She grinned lazily. "It is comfortable."

"That may be…" he said then and slowly pushed her back onto the pillow as he began to undo it, spreading the dark mass of hair above and around her, "...but THIS...is beautiful." 

She did not say anything and once again Legolas glided his hand over her waist in an easy caress, feeling the silk underneath and the skin underneath that, but never to the limits of her discomfort. He placed gentle kisses on her cheeks, her face, her neck and on her hands, but never beyond that. And yet, in the dimness and warmth of the silent room, it was the most intimate and enflaming act. Though both had shared far deeper intimacy with others, neither had felt this excited and weakened by a simple touch, an innocent kiss, a mere closeness. 

Perhaps an elf would define it as courting, since they were overly passionate beings, but always in fierce and rather easy control of that passion. However, to a human it could only be compared to the most ardent foreplay, setting each and every single nerve on fire with the longing for more. If not that, at least for its continuity forever. 

But with the later hours her body and her mind finally began to give in to the exhaustion of the day as well as the torture on her sentiments and her perception. Irulan felt herself drowning in a pool of warm whispers, caresses and kisses and she did not resist when Legolas pulled her closer. A distant part of her felt the covers partly enfolding her and the elf embracing her waist, pulling her to his chest, eliminating all distance between them. Then there was only the long awaited comfort of sleep.

***

Irulan stood facing the mirror in the bathroom. She blinked, suddenly baffled by that. 'This is a dream,' echoed a thought in her mind, then, and relief came with that thought. 'Indeed,' she thought in reply. 'Only a dream.'

She shifted on her feet, and took a look around. A perfect replicate of the actual bathroom. The dimness of it. The exotic flowers in vases or hanging from the ceiling. She turned on the water and felt its wetness. 'Amazing!' she thought in bafflement. 'How real it feels!'

A moment passed as she slid her fingers through the coolness of it some more time. Then came the sound. The sound of the banging door. She flinched momentarily of its echo in the silence, then slowly relaxed. Her gaze went up to the mirror again, expecting the beautiful woman in red. 

Instead, another came and if Irulan had ever had been afraid in her life, it was this moment. 

Joan of Arc stepped into the dim light that shone above the mirror and left the remaining part of the bathroom in mysterious darkness. She took a slow step, her eyes glued to Irulan's reflection as the other failed to move, breathe, speak or even look away. A tremble came over her, very much like the one she had felt while Baeron had spoken and she shook with it, like a leaf would shake with the wind. A whimper fell from her lips and the fear turned like a knife would turn in a heart. The effort to inhale forced another whimper as the young girl came to a standstill next to her. 

They stood side by side, identical in pose and stance – facing the mirror, their feet slightly apart, the light flowing over their faces and their looks locked through their reflections. 

She looked exactly like in the vision. Shorter and skinnier than Irulan, with sunken cheeks and short, harshly cropped ash brown hair. Even the few freckles on her incredibly pale skin were evident. She had very pale blue eyes that were perhaps a little big for her face. Actually Joan was not beautiful at all. A thin nose, prominent and sharp cheekbones and flat lips. All in all, she could easily pass as a young man. And yet...a power was throbbing from her. Not a gentle power. Not a wise or mature one. It was...raw and primitive. The power of stubbornness. Or perhaps the kind that people of Faith had – the ability to turn your back to the world and stride on, no matter what the price.

"A dream," choked out Irulan, her fingers feeling numb as she sank them into the porcelain of the sink. The water kept running, a soft swish in the background. "This is a dream! It is a dream! I am dreaming."

"Life is a dream, King-daughter," the girl said then (and strangely in English, with a heavy French accent, too!), and Irulan almost jumped when she spoke. She gasped and bit down a scream, her fingers clutching the rim of the sink and trembling with the implied force. Her voice was young and flat. Not a voice to command armies. Not a voice to make big speeches. There was a tinge of cold authority in her tone, but it did not sound incredibly threatening, because it came from a mere child. Though at the moment Irulan was more than terrified by that child. 

"Oh sweet God!" whispered Irulan, still unable to tear her eyes from the reflection of the other, whose blank expression slowly broke into dry amusement. The girl's face twisted, slightly tilting down, making her look below her eyebrows as a cut tore through her visage. The cut turned into a grin, and a rather feral one in nature. 

"Oh," whispered Joan of Arc, going from dry and cold to entertained so fast, that the action itself made her seem even more frightening, "Call Him." Her grin widened further, revealing not so well kept teeth. "He will not come." Once again Irulan thought of closing her eyes, but to be in the same dim room with this...this...thing while her eyes were shut was even scarier. So she kept looking, unblinking. It was then that she realized with horror that the girl was wearing the same rags she had the day she was bound to the pile. 

A moment passed and it was Joan who broke the silence again: "Will you share MY pain too?" 

Her tone spoke of amusement, anger and mocking – and Irulan failed to understand why any of those sentiments would be directed to her. She swallowed. Then swallowed again. "I," she tried to say, but it came out more like a wheeze. "I...I can not," was her whisper-whine-gasp of a reply. 

Joan's head cocked to the side then and her grin became a small smile. "You, too, desert me," she whispered in awe. But it held no surprise. Just the fulfillment of something expected. 

At this point Irulan could speak no more. She just shook her head mightily, not looking away during the action. The water ran on and on and on and she trembled again. The only thing she could think of at the moment was 'Legolas'. Her mind grasped the idea as if grasping the only rope that led to survival. 'Legolas!' she thought again, hope flowing out of her very much like the water that was still flowing into the sink. 

"Call your angel," said Joan of Arc, once again sounding amused. "But…" and her blue eyes flared up with something utterly alien, "…do not expect salvation. No salvation for the likes of us, King-daughter." 

Irulan watched the reflection of the other girl's hand stirring and her heart stomped faster at the sight. It slowly rose and reached out to her. 'Legolas!' she screamed silently. Again. And again. But no Legolas came. "Allow me to show you," whispered Joan of Arc, "what I mean."

When her fingers grasped Irulan's upper arm, a fire bolted through that spot and in an instant exploded in each and every cell. 'LEGOLAS!' she screamed as the flames burnt every nerve cell, every single hair, every muscle, every gland. The word "pain" suddenly gained a new meaning, for this was like nothing she had ever felt before. It was beyond the combination of any kind of pain she had felt – including the pain she had gone through in the restaurant. That had been sad and bitter. This one was pure fury and flame. It tore through every organ, every tissue and every limb, setting everything in red and orange hurt and the ache was simply beyond words. She screamed then. Again and again and again as the fire burned her tongue and her lips and her jaw and her throat. Yet she screamed, her body not her own anymore. 

"Irulan! Wake up!" he shouted in return, but still she thrashed, her fists flying in every direction as he swatted and evaded them, trying to lock her motionless without hurting her. Which proved to be impossible. "Wake up!" he roared and his elven voice bounced off the walls of the chamber, yet Irulan did neither wake, nor calm. Without thought or hesitation his hands appeared on her throat then and Legolas pressed his fingers against the sensitive points, not faltering at her struggle that continued for a few more moments. 

After those moments unconsciously her hands clamped over his, trying to pry them off. Yet he pressed, shifting to sit up and trap her legs below him. A moan along with a choking sound erupted from her and she instinctively fought the sensation of fainting that came when the oxygen flow to her brain was being held off. Her fingers dug into his with final strength and then slackened as her eyelids fluttered at the edge of letting go and giving in to unconsciousness. Instantly his hands disappeared and he fluidly got off the bed, taking her with him. She felt limp in his arms but he did not halt as he tilted her slightly and her head fell back, the hair flowing down like a dark curtain. He tilted her further to aid the blood flow to her brain and a few moments later indeed her eyelids fluttered again and another moan broke free from her throat. 

He walked around the room and continued to tilt her slightly back, then a little up again. Although he knew that she could not understand him, he still spoke comforting and soothing words to her. In his frustration he did not realize that he spoke in his native tongue, which he seldom did, unless highly disturbed. 

Finally her eyes cracked open, and though they were still glazed and dull, it was a good sign. Legolas strode to the bed and gently lay her down and remained seated at the edge of it, his hands traveling over her incredibly pale face and wiping the strands away. Out of sheer shock, she began to cry then, taking big gulps of air in between the sobs. 

"Cry, Irulan," Legolas whispered, never stopping his caress of her face. "Cry. Let it go."

At the recognition of his voice her hands clamped over his with sudden speed. "Legolas!" she said, her tone high with alarm. Her gaze remained fixed on the ceiling, but her fingers dug into his as his other hand folded over hers. "Legolas!"

So he waited in patience as she cried some more and finally, perhaps because she had no more tears left, her sobs turned into sniffs and the glaze on her eyes lifted. After another string of minutes her sniffing stopped somewhat as well, and she swallowed a few times as her gaze found his and her grasp on his hand became even stronger. Legolas, though, felt no pain at that clutch and just remained gazing down at her, freeing his other hand to wipe away her hair once more. "Are you better?" he said so softly, it was almost inaudible. 

She only nodded, realizing her grip and slowly softening it. Another look at her and a moment later he was sitting right beside her, looming above her. His hands slid between hers and cupped her face, a look of deep worry and concern written on his expression. Which looked strange on his usually expressionless visage. "What happened?" he whispered in urgency, his eyes wandering over her features again and again. 

"I...I dreamt," she whispered in return, discomfort washing over her at the recollection of the dream. "I think," she added then, shuddering a little. Slowly she lifted her right arm and rolled up the sleeve of her cream colored pajamas. To her utter amazement and disbelief, a red blotch rested on her upper arm. It did not resemble a wound or a burn, but rather the remnants of a painfully strong grip. Irulan stared at it, stupefied and could not look away as the elf slowly took a hold of her limb, turning it a little for better inspection. When their eyes locked again, Irulan whispered "Was it real?" in alarm. 

He sighed and glided his fingers over it. "It was not real. Nor was it a dream," he said quietly. She shivered slightly despite herself. "It will pass in a day or two," was his gentle addition and Irulan nodded, not sure what to think of it. The elf sighed again and then slowly leaned in to kiss the mark. It felt incredibly good. As did his presence. She had no idea what she would have done if Legolas had not been with her this night. In an almost childish fashion, she was frantic for him to be nearby. Especially now. 

He opened his eyes and locked gaze with her. Irulan did not move or pull away her arm. And that gave him confidence to place another one, watchful of her reaction. His fingers glided over the heated skin, his eyes never looking away from hers. She seemed not to mind and did not have the intimidated expression that she had had in the train. It was all the encouragement he needed and he continued to kiss her arm in the softest manner as she watched him with slight confusion, but lack of alarm. 

Moments passed and the Heavens knew that he did not want to stop. But going further would be to take advantage of her dazed state. Finally he grasped her hand and leaned in to kiss her cheek a few times. No more pulling away. No more objection. No more refusal. It was pure bliss! "Shall we return, Irulan?" he whispered, drawing back a little. "We can choose to go back."

"And forget the Masquerade?" she sniffed with astonishment. Legolas almost laughed out at her enthusiasm, but pressed it down, merely nodding in response. "But..." she stammered and wiped away the remnant of tears from her face hastily, "...but...I want to go! You said we have time!"

"We have time, yes," he said, cocking his head and looking down at her with amusement. "But do we have further strength?" She opened her mouth, but Legolas was faster: "Sharing is not a lightly thing, Irulan. Not only is it new to you, but it also happened too abruptly for your good. Not to mention that it was not a fond moment that Baeron picked." The last part came out far colder than the rest. 

She sat up then, facing him. "I asked it of him!" When his blank stare did not betray anything, she continued: "He has no fault, I chose the topic."

"He had no right to do what he did," the elf growled. "You are Aragorn's kin, Irulan! You are expected to be responsive and sensitive to it!"

Irulan sighed and cast her eyes down, observing the candle light shimmering on her silken pajamas. "If he had asked me, I would have agreed, Legolas." 

His fingers found her chin and she was forced to look up at his determined features. "And now, Irulan? After you have merely tasted the price, would you still do so?"

Upon what followed, Legolas could only blame himself for forgetting her lineage once again. "I would," she said slowly, her sparkling brown eyes finding his. His head tilted up slightly in wonder and yet, recognition, and he found nothing to say in reply as they stared at each other in silence for several moments. 

"Is your life so worthless?" he managed finally, the anger in his tone rather evident. 

"My life!" chuckled Irulan, almost bitterly. She shook her head and took a deep breath, massaging her face. "My life!" Another chuckle. "What life, Legolas?" The elf just stared back both in confusion and amazement, trying to understand her meaning. He chose silence. She sighed once more and looked around the room. "I have no life." Her eyes locked with his again and she shifted slightly to lean on her injured right arm, an expression of surprise adorning her face momentarily as she discovered that it did not hurt at all. "Sure...if breathing, eating and moving is the same as being alive, then I am. But so are plants," she said, waving her arm in frustration. "And sea anemones! And coral reefs. Caterpillars and even bacteria! Fungus is alive, too, Legolas!" His expression slowly became one of mock scolding, but she continued with determination: "And that's all I am. Alive. But I have no LIFE!" 

"Do you think that carrying the burdens of things long gone and dead will give you a life?" Legolas said suddenly in a grave voice. 

Irulan just stared at him. "Legolas," she sighed finally, "you will never completely understand me. And God knows it is beyond me to ever come CLOSE to understanding you!" She halted momentarily, pursing her lips. "I know that you Firstborn would think me as naive and foolish. Maybe I am a child in a toy store to you - longing for things that have no essential value, that are just means of entertainment. And most probably you are right." She sighed, diverting her gaze again, her other hand traveling to the arm she was leaning on and unconsciously rubbing the mark underneath the silk. "But...just like we do not understand the burden of too much time, I sometimes think that you do not understand the agony of too little."

Another slice of silence came between them and Legolas did not dare to break it. Irulan amazed him. Just when he thought her to be a sweet child, she portrayed deep wisdom. Just when he was convinced that she was a strong woman, she showed weak spots in places he would never have guessed. Just when he believed her to be afraid and timid, she turned around and the tone of command in her voice was not something one would hear every day. True, this palette of diversity and the clashing of opposites were human features - and rather beguiling ones, too. But not too many of her kind carried it to this extend. 

"Look at me, Legolas!" she said finally, both bitter and desperate. "I have a profession that has become dull and routine. It saves nobody's life. It does not even contribute anything in the name of good to this world! Because like many other things, it is based on sales and marketing and money. I live in a big city with millions of others and there are days –DAYS- when I don't have a real conversation. I work like crazy -sometimes out of sheer boredom, I think- and I spend the money on things that I don't really need. It is the way of life. Of the times. And I am so SICK of it!" Once again Irulan found his eyes as he stood in utter patience and she could not help continue speaking: "The times of magic, mystery and glory are lost to me. All I can do is read and imagine them so that my grey life can gain at least a LITTLE tint of color!" She sighed again and a sadness like no other was in that sigh. "Some life! Some Aragorn's heir!"

His fingers glided down her cheekbone and rested on the crook of her neck to cup her face. "Believe me, Irulan," he said gently, his voice somewhat raw and hoarse, "I know the torture of boredom only too well."

She nodded in understanding and reveled in the feeling of his warm palm against her face. "Often I wish I did not know the truth," she whispered some moments later as Legolas could not look away from the sea of candles that reflected in her dark orbs. "About me and Aragorn. About elves and humans. Now that I know it, I long for things that are simply...beyond me."

The elf smiled a breath-taking smile. No wonder that Joan of Arc had believed Baeron to be an angel. When they shed the curtains of control, they were creatures that one could only define as 'divine'. "I, too, long for such things," he said softly, a comfortable numbness on him. Sure, he had felt excitement in her presence. And curiosity as well as enthusiasm. Joy, glee and surprise. Now, though, he felt such relaxation, it was beyond any description. As if his spirit was a musical instrument that she tuned so easily and that resonated to the soothing notes that seemed to stream out from her. 

"Have you ever felt so in need of something that the danger meant nothing, Legolas?" she said. "That you did not care if you died from it? That it was more than worth to take the risk instead of the safety that meant the lack of it?"

Legolas took a deep breath. "I did," he whispered gently. And then: "I do."

Feeling suddenly a bit awkward at his penetrating gaze, Irulan tilted her head and looked down. It was only the second night away from the castle, and yet the intimacy was still growing between them. Who would have thought? Just two days ago she had believed to despise Legolas. And now...well, it was hard to put a name to the feeling. But it was certainly much more than mere liking. And what would she do if this ended? Would she compare every other man in her life to Legolas? In that case, she was certainly doomed to unhappiness for a whole lifetime! "I want to go to Vienna," she said finally, mainly to break the intensity that seemed to have settled between them again. 

Legolas pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to regain his wits. Not to mention, resist the temptation to pull her to himself and kiss her. Whoever had said that elves had control over passion, had certainly never met Irulan! He closed his eyes, eager to shake off the fire that fanned through him. Vienna, yes. The Masquerade. And Baeron. With the last thought came a rather unpleasant sentiment: anger. All right...so the anger had a good amount of jealousy in it as well!

He sighed and looked up, finding Irulan fixed on him. His hand traveled to her arm and glided over the wound on her forearm. "If that is your wish," he said finally. "But you will never attempt such a thing with Baeron again," he added then. "Even if he offers it, you will decline, Irulan. That is not a simple wish - it is a demand," he concluded with a dangerous tone. She nodded once in silence. He looked away, taking a deep breath. How come their roles seemed to be so reversed? HE was supposed to be in control and in charge. HIS wishes should matter, not hers, was that not true? But he could no longer deny the pleasure he felt at the thought of fulfilling her desires. He sighed again. "Very well. It is the early hours of morning yet. Let us go back to sleep."

She smiled with childish glee and assumed her former place as he held the cover aside for her. Legolas, too, assumed his position and embraced her once more. This time his movements held no hesitation. A silent agreement had flourished between them and though both the terms and the future of it seemed shadowy, one thing was certain enough: it was a journey that they were embarking on hand in hand. 

****


	13. I Have Come

The next morning Irulan woke up with a headache. 'No wonder!' was her immediate thought, 'After all the wine yesterday!' She sat up, rubbing her temple and gazing around the room. Her eyes found Legolas standing in front of the large windows -the drapes of which were only slightly pulled apart- to reveal a ray of bluish light. When their eyes locked, his smile widened and he turned and walked over to her in graceful steps to sit on the edge of the bed. 

Irulan, the memories of yesterday a jumble in her mind, wasn't sure how to react. There was an intensity between them, no doubt. Very much like the one between too people who had shared deep intimacy. She managed to smile in return as Legolas placed his fingers on her temple. "Headache," she croaked and then chose to remain silent as he gave her a gentle massage. To her surprise, it did indeed feel much better merely minutes later. 

With the departure of pain the movement of his fingers ceased and they glided down to hold her hand as the elf gazed at her in silence and she just looked back in the same manner. Now that she had finally taken a step, she would expect the overwhelming atmosphere of seduction and attraction to diffuse. Contrary to that, it seemed to have increased even further. Like a silly infatuation it was, making her heart break into gallop every time Legolas moved closer or merely touched her. The only thing about it NOT so silly, was the fact that Irulan was too old for infatuations. 

"A new day has dawned," he said suddenly and she broke from the train of her thoughts. "It is a good day for new beginnings."

Irulan nodded, glancing at the light streaming in through the window. "I am ready for it," she said, grasping his fingers gently in return. A moment passed before she found the heart to continue: "I want to thank you, Legolas. For this whole trip. I always wanted to see these places." 

Something sparkled in his eyes and his smile widened at her words. "My pleasure," he murmured almost inaudibly, then placed a long kiss on her cheek, embracing her. Irulan embraced him back, her arms slowly encircling his neck as her head rested against his shoulder. It was time to step out of the shell, out of the routine, out of the common and used road and do what was the most natural for all living beings to do: love and cherish. 

'How is it possible that everything she does kills and resurrects me over and over again?' Legolas thought, his heart beating furiously at her simple words of gratitude and the even simpler act of embrace. Just now, he wanted to give her the whole world, if her thank you would be something like this in return. 'Millennia I have lived amongst mortals. Countless women I have touched. And yet, at this moment, I feel as if I have done neither and as if this is fresh and new to my senses.' The mystery and allure that came with the feeling was overwhelming. Very much like discovering an ancient and secret room built into your house - the shock of such a discovery after so many years spent in total oblivion to its presence was sizzling. And the excitement one felt while walking in its dusty dimness was simply breath-taking. Even the oldest of beings could not evade the thrill of a new adventure.

His mind insisted on returning to the arguments it had been wrestling as he was watching her sleep from his position by the window. Arguments that pointed to her mortality. Her status. Her current life. These and many other things. It may be new for Irulan, but Legolas had taken that road often enough to know what was waiting for him behind those alluring hills. One would think that after so many times, a wise man would grow wary and cautious of it. Or better yet, stay off the path altogether. He sighed softly. 'No wise man am I, then,' he thought, once again closing his mind to the hammering force of those facts. 

"Is it too late?!" she said suddenly, pushing herself slightly away as her eyes widened with alarm. "Have I overslept?"

"No," he said, kissing her hand a final time. "I am ready to go and I will wait for you outside. Take your time, Irulan."

With that he gently squeezed her fingers and turned to leave. 'Amazing!' she thought, scratching her head, 'A man who does not mind waiting! For this alone, Legolas, I can admire you!' A moment later she was running to the bathroom, excited to start another day in a foreign city with the perfect man to guide her through it. The days that she had walked the streets of New York alone and bored out of her wits seemed a lifetime away.

***

The door opened and she walked out. She had changed into a black shirt and jeans and her hair was free but held back leisurely with a single pin to keep it from falling on her face (as silly as it was, Irulan had actually gone through some serious inner battle about the hair issue. Certainly she should not try to make herself more appealing to anyone other than herself – no matter who! But then..... "Legolas likes it this way. What's wrong with that?!" she had told herself stubbornly and had walked out of the bathroom to make it a final decision). The paleness was completely gone and there was a new glow to her olive skin. He knew that it was partly due to the Sharing and carefully avoided any further thought in that area. She smiled and walked up to him as Legolas remained rooted, a gentle and lazy joy blooming in him at her sight. 

Irulan remained a step away from him and he did not hesitate to reach out and caress her cheek as he locked eyes with her. "What does your heart desire this day?" he said slowly. 

"I….don't know," was the reply, "I am a little…..dazed."

Instinctively his gaze rose to the window and he frowned a little before he spoke: "Paris is not a city to see in a single day. There is much I want to show you…..but it would be wise to set out for Vienna today."

Irulan sighed and nodded. His small smile was followed by a sudden kiss on the cheek. "We shall return later," he sighed finally, placing a strand of hair behind her ear. "But our journey is elsewhere this time." She glanced up at his amused expression and grinned in return. "Let us go, then."

She took his offered hand and they walked out the room, through the corridor and to the elevator. It felt so strange to be like this with Legolas. In Paris, too! Like an absurd dream, almost. Or a honeymoon in an exotic, foreign place. Irulan felt a warmth creeping into her cheeks at that thought and hastily pushed it out her mental frame. Of course not to stray into such dangerous ideas would be easier if he was not holding her hand and kissing it every five minutes! 

In the elevator, to her demise, they met Catherine who gave the couple and their entwined hands a very sly look. Irulan almost moaned in frustration and feeling rather irritated, retrieved hers, placing it in the pocket of her jacket. 

"How did your clothes fit, Mademoiselle?" came the cheeky question, accompanied with a grin. 

"Fine, thank you," she said dryly. To her horror, the woman turned to Legolas then: 

"Did you like her selection as well, Monsieur Greenleaf?" 

Irulan blushed against all her control and gave her a nasty look. "Of course. Thank you for your aid in the matter," was his rather charming reply. 

Catherine grinned wider then. "Perhaps Mademoiselle would be interested in other clothes as well? She barely had time to try on much yesterday. Shall I send up some samples, Sir?" 

"No!" seethed Irulan, terrified by this woman and more than embarrassed at their state. "I am fine, thank you." 

Unfortunately she ignored Irulan completely. "Perhaps Monsieur Greenleaf would like to see them?" she said, her eyes never leaving the man. 

Legolas smiled one of his breath-taking smiles. "You seem convinced of their worth," was his reply. "I have faith in your taste, Madame. No need to try. Since we will be leaving, you can send it to my England address as my gift to Mademoiselle Irulan and have it paid from my account." 

It took Irulan a lot of willpower not to object to that and reveal the nature of said items. She gave Catherine a poisonous look (replied with a perfect blank stare) and kept her silence. 

****

They had breakfast in another charming cafe and then began to walk through the streets. It was a pity that they did not have time for the magnificent places to see in this city and Irulan had a hard time hiding her disappointment about that. But when the elf offered to forget the Masquerade and remain in Paris, she hastily objected. He had said that they would return, right? If Anne were there she would be shocked by how ready and overly eager Irulan was to repeat such a trip -not to mention with Legolas- and she would most certainly remind her of this fact every five minutes. Thankfully Anne was far, far away in another galaxy. 

Legolas guided her through various streets, telling his recollections of Paris and especially the dreadful times of disease and many revolutions, but also the times of romance and luxury. With the past opening before them and gently closing after their passing, they arrived at an automobile sales store. Irulan, curious what this had to do with his tale, waited patiently while someone walked up to them and had a conversation with the elf in French that lasted for a few minutes. After that they were led away to a gallery that held a selection of the finest cars. Now rather surprised, Irulan held out till the end of their exchange and approached the elf as he ran his fingers over the gleaming black shell of a sporty Mercedes. "Ummm...Heath?" she said, and he turned to her, smiling, and motioned her to come closer. "What are you doing?" 

"Buying a car," was his simple reply. 

Irulan's mouth fell open and for a few moments she lacked the wits to say anything on the matter. "B-buying a CAR?!" she managed to choke out incredulously. 

Legolas smiled and walked around to the other side. "Indeed. We will need one to travel more leisurely and at our own pace." 

He sat behind the wheel and delved into a conversation with the other man again. Several moments passed and she finally snapped out of her daze, approaching them. "But....," she hissed, still amazed, "but....why can't we rent one?" 

Legolas gave her an amazed look, then simply said "I never rent. It is not to my liking to share anything." 

"You will buy a brand new car for a single trip?!" was her rather disbelieving question. 

The elf turned on the ignition and listened with keen attention for a moment or two, then replied: "Not for this trip alone, Irulan. I will keep it of course." 

"But...." she began again, and disregarded the annoyed look she was getting from the other man, "….but you already have so many!" 

"In England I do, yes," was his soft answer. A moment later he smiled with sudden discovery. "Would you like to have it?" 

Her eyes widened incredibly. "WHAT?!" 

His smiled deepened at that. He gave the man some IDs and credit cards and the other left to call for confirmation. "Come sit," Legolas said gently, patting the seat next to him. She remained rooted for a moment, then hesitantly walked up to the vehicle and glided to sit on the seat, still unable to understand what was happening at the moment. "Do you like it?" he said softly, grasping her hand and placing a kiss on it. 

"It's gorgeous. I mean....I don't know much about cars. But....it seems really nice," she stammered. 

He nodded and continued his ministrations with the pedals. "It is a fine machine. You can use it a lifetime and it will hold." 

"Legolas," she said hastily, "I do not want it!" 

His look spoke of surprise. "Why not?" he said slowly a moment later. 

"Why not?!" she repeated incredulously. "Well......I.....I don't need it!" He just kept looking at her with a blank expression. "It is.....I can not accept such a thing." 

His gaze continued for a while. Then a sigh followed. "Surely you will not refuse a gift, Irulan?" 

"I'm sorry," she whispered and swallowed softly. "I can not take it." 

"I do not understand. I ask for nothing in return." His voice betrayed the honesty of his words. One must not forget that elves had no concept of value like humans did. Not because they lived in richness, but because they held nothing solid and mundane of high value, in the first place. For them, nothing was too expensive or too rare or too grand to part from. They had no concept of expense or money and cared nothing for such things. They enjoyed grace and quality, yes, but had no greed for it and gave it away graciously and without hesitation or second thought to their friends and loved ones. "It is only a car, Irulan," he tried again. 

"Only a......only......" Irulan moaned, rolling her eyes. "Yes, exactly. It is a CAR! It's not a bouquet of flowers....or....or.....a box of chocolate....or even a piece of clothing. A CAR, Legolas! And......and not even that! I mean...this is no ordinary car!" 

"It does not matter what it is," he said then, annoyed by the argument. To refuse a gift was a rather rude act in elven tradition. He understood human culture and the current times well enough. But he was an elf and had no reason to behave different in the presence of someone who was aware of that. "It is a present from the heart. The nature of it is of no importance." 

"I simply can not-" 

"I want you to have it," he cut in, his voice growing more determined. When she opened her mouth, he continued: "Do not refuse me again. I will truly begin to feel offended if you do," he said and his voice said that it was final. Discomforted by her behavior (the refusal of a gift! Now that was a punch in the stomach, indeed!), he turned away and watched the attendant speaking on the phone with a soft voice in the adjacent office. 

Irulan shifted in her seat, wiggling with discomfort. "Forgive me," she whispered finally. "I just…" 

A long and rather tormenting look followed and Irulan did not meet it, her posture open surrender to anxiety. "Explain the reason," he said calmly. 

She sighed with frustration. Was he just dense or deliberately cruel?! "I am not good with gifts, I guess," she retorted finally. 

That only caused silence. "Not good with gifts?!" came the bewildered reply. Irulan was certainly one of a kind! "What if I bought you something precious?" he said suddenly, very intrigued by her refusal. 

"Something PRECIOUS?!" she said with awe and gave him a shocked look. Her gaze wandered through the vehicle as Legolas did not break his observation of her. "You mean from a monetary point of view?" He nodded. "MORE than this?!" When he nodded again, she just laughed nervously. "I seriously can not imagine what that could be!" When he opened his mouth to reply, she suddenly felt afraid of what he would say and intervened: "Does not matter. I would not accept. I'm sorry." 

"Well," he said finally, a small smile crawling on his lips, "so am I." 

A short silence issued and Irulan gave him a suspicious look as the elf turned away with mock disinterest. 

"F-for what?" she whispered, alarmed and not certain why that was. 

"For the suffering you must endure from now on." 

"What are you talking about?" 

When he did not answer and kept inspecting the vehicle, his face an open expression of amusement, Irulan opened her mouth to repeat the question, but right at that moment the sales attendant arrived by their side and produced several forms ready for signature. Legolas didn't even leave his seat and dismissively signed all as the other man gave Irulan a long and intense look. "Do you like the car, Madame?" he said, his accent heavy and his voice laced with curiosity as to what kind of woman was picked by a man like this. 

"It is very beautiful," she replied, trying to distract herself from the temper. 

"I am sure that you will love it once you sit behind the wheel." 

"Ah she will indeed," said Legolas, continuing his signing. "And I hope so, too. After all, it is hers." 

The man broke into a wide grin and Irulan just felt like punching both of them. "Oh mon Dieu! What a wonderful gift! Your husband must love you very much, Madame." 

At that point all Irulan was capable of was to stare agape and remain too shocked by the idea to come up with a reply. The clerk grinned widely in return and nodded with the satisfaction of having seen the "perfect couple". A few moments later their business there seemed to be done. Legolas turned on the ignition and simply left the store. Irulan looked back at the closing large garage door and then back at him. "I can't believe we just bought a Mercedes as if it where a pair of shoes!" 

The elf smiled brightly, changing gear. "There is no difference, really. If I see something I like, I just go for it. And that strategy, Irulan, is not solely for shopping, either," was his suggestive answer. 

She shifted a little in her seat with discomfort. "Are we not going to pick up our clothes?" 

"Leave them," he said dismissively. "We'll get different ones." When her disbelieving and blank stare refused to disappear, he sighed with mock frustration. "What is this thing with you and your clothes?"

"I did not even get the chance to wear all of them," she replied, not sure how else to put it. 

"It that such a dreadful thing?"

"Well...not dreadful," she protested, "but.....I mean it seems like a waste! A waste of money, Legolas!"

He sighed and looked ahead for a while. "I thought that is what money is for. Wasting." Elves! Irulan laughed and looked away. She would not win this argument. And probably none of the others, either. "You know that most of our resources are spent for the good of humanity," he said gently and she nodded in reply. Elves controlled an immense amount of financial power and they used it to keep the world from falling apart. One could only do so much without being too obvious – so most of it was done secretly and in reasonable amounts to keep off the suspicion. And though humans still sold weapons and opened war and turned their backs to famine and poverty, these things would have far more terrifying results if not for the subtle intervention and counter-move of the Circle. 

"However," he said then and she came back to the present, "what is left is more than enough to live in comfort. Tell me your idea of comfort." 

Irulan thought about that for a few moments. "I don't know," she said slowly, amazed that the question woke no answer in her. 

Legolas smiled a beguiling smile and found her hand to bring it up for a kiss once more. "Not to be stuck in yesterday is comfort, Irulan. Not to worry about tomorrow is comfort. To live the moment to the fullest." He watched her frown in thought about that. "We have been on a trip for two days now. Have you thought about your job?" Irulan, rather surprised by that, looked up at him momentarily, then slowly shook her head. "About New York at all?" The reply was the same. "Have you worried about your unpaid bills? Your unfinished work?" 

"Not really," was her confused murmur. "I hardly thought about anyone or anything else. Not even Anne....or....or the meeting, Legolas!" she finished in a more excited tone. 

He nodded in satisfaction. "You have not even thought about coffee," was his soft comment and her mouth fell open to that. 

"So true!" she whispered in awe. 

"THIS, Irulan, is comfort," he said and kissed her palm again. "Not to worry about clothes. Not to make plans. Not to look back. And it is worth all the expense, believe me." His hand glided over her hair in a gentle caress. "Let go. I shall take good care of you," he whispered a few moments later. 

Irulan sighed and pulled up her legs to sit more comfortably on the seat, facing him. "I sure will try," she mumbled with a grin and he laughed back, his voice echoing in the small vehicle like a melody of joy and hope. 

***

The distance was great and the elf took advantage of the fact that the highways of Europe -especially Germany- had no speed limits. And he was so skilled in the art of driving, that Irulan barely felt their speed that reached sometimes 200 km/hr. It was a long drive, yes, but Legolas had chosen it on purpose, for it gave them the chance to speak for a longer time and to be away from the public for many hours. He was an elf and needed almost no rest. And what made it worthwhile above all was the fact that he had Irulan all to himself, sitting right beside him, for hours to come and nothing else to distract them. 

During the day Legolas pulled over often enough and urged her to come out to see the spectacular view. Sometimes they strode into the rolling hills for many minutes, their hands locked, or sat on a rock to observe the serenity of nature. There was a peace and calmness in these places that was foreign to her. And she realized that she liked it. The concept of time left her. Along with the unpleasant anxiety and worries concerning the necessities in life. It felt good to share the serenity and the peacefulness of free time with an elf. Whenever they stumbled upon a small village, Legolas stopped at a cafe and made sure that Irulan tasted at least a spoonful or a bite of whatever the local specialty was. Not to mention, that she had enough coffee. 

They passed through Frankfurt in the evening hours and he dragged her into a clothing store. The price tags would normally make her turn on her heels and leave right away, but the elf insisted that it was time to shop. Irulan glared at his unreadable expression, torn between rejecting anyway (and freezing in her current attire – Germany was so damn chilly!), or accepting and thereby preventing further delay of their journey. He made the choice easier for her by demanding it and Irulan once again came to observe in amazement how his tone could become commanding in an instant and how it could make her move without hesitation.

After the quick shopping spree and once their bags were placed into the trunk, Legolas was the gentle and thoughtful elf again. For the night he picked a mountain village close to Frankfurt instead of the thriving city and Irulan liked the little, clean pension far better than any of the fancy hotels they had been in. She had eaten so much the entire day that she refused to have dinner. 

"As you wish," the elf said, adjusting the collar of her new jacket on her while she observed him with amusement, "In that case, there is something I want to show you."

They drove out of the village, into a small path. Irulan looked out into the impossibly thick forest that hung over their road and that separated one town from another. Here, it was hard to believe that they were in the 21st century – so timeless and untouched it seemed to be. No streetlamps. No traffic. Hardly any people. And yet they drove, until the path winded into a smaller and smaller one, continuing its ascent. Close to the peak of the hill it ended and Legolas parked the car, then walked around to open her door and pull her out by the hand. 

His fingers entwined with hers and in silence they paced along a used track that dwindled close to the border of the trees. Irulan felt uneasy and afraid. The silence was strange to her ears and the solitude highly unusual. If Legolas was not there with her, fear would certainly dominate all the other sentiments she felt at the moment. She hung to his grasp and tried not to look into the darkness that lurked beneath the trees. 

"Are you afraid?" he said gently, looking back at her, but not slowing his step. 

"It is so….dark and silent here," she said and tried to keep her eyes glued to him. 

"You have nothing to fear. I am with you," was the soothing comment. 

"Yes, of course," she breathed. After a moment's silence she managed a nervous chuckle: "I thought myself so brave! In all the silly novels I read, I was there for the adventures and dangerous deeds! But….." –her gaze wandered up once more, to the trees gently shaking in the silent forest- "……but I think in reality nothing is that alluring. Or easy."

Legolas laughed softly in reply and she felt relief at the sound alone. "Indeed! Middle Earth seems so exciting when you read Tolkien's version. But…..it was a frightening and dangerous place." He resumed his uphill walk in silence for a moment as the only sound was the gentle wind and Irulan's harsh breathing. "Just a stroll through Mirkwood would easily scare the toughest man. And I must add that Mirkwood was one of the safest places to be, in those days."

Before Irulan could ask more about Middle Earth, Mirkwood and all the interesting stuff, they arrived on a clearing that proved to be the peak. She halted, momentarily dazed by the view before her – hills upon hills of patchy, rich forest, a glittering Moon, a navy sky with whisks of clouds, tiny speckles of flickering lights of sporadic towns and villages and an immense silence. Their back was crowded with another array of trees and prevented any view in that direction. But what lay before her was simply…magical. 

For many moments they stood in silence, looking down and around and unconsciously her hand found his and held it with awe and excitement. "It is like another planet, Legolas!" she whispered, barely audible over the breeze that was combing through the trees behind them. 

"Or another time," he said gently, folding his other hand on hers and finally pulling her to sit on the cool grass. 

"Yes!" Irulan whispered, not looking away from the view. 

"This is very close to where the Grimm brothers lived," he said, looking at her profile. A smile spread on her lips and Legolas thought it to be fantastic. 

"I can see their source of inspiration," she sighed in return. 

"Yes. These lands have a romance," he said, taking in the view once more. "Many battles have been fought here, and many fairy tales written. It reminds me more of Middle Earth than many other places." 

Irulan turned to him at that, her eyes intriguingly dark in this setting and Legolas stared back, mesmerized. He felt nothing of the chilly wind in his current state of flame and fire and only managed to breathe again when she cast her gaze down, playing with the grass in silence. 

Many minutes later she said "I was really scared last night," and the interval was so long that for a moment or two, he seriously did not understand what she meant. "I don't know what I would have done if you were not there, Legolas." 

He did not reply right away and instead, reveled in the feeling of being needed. Of being trusted and wanted. Out of its own accord, his right hand found her cheek and cupped it gently. "So was I," came his soft statement many moments later. "My kind is growing careless, it seems. I will make sure that foolish actions of this nature will not be repeated."

Instantly her eyes found his. "What will you do?" she whispered in alarm. The elf remained silent and she grasped his hand, pulling it down to her lap and not diverting her eyes from his. "Legolas.....please promise that you will not punish Baeron in any fashion for this!" He clenched his jaws but did move other than that. "Promise!"

"Mercy or sympathy has nothing to do with justice, Irulan," he said slowly. "Even less so when it comes to us elves. Baeron will most willingly accept the consequences of his actions, I can assure you of that." 

Against the caress of his fingers on the back of her hand, the tenseness remained. "Then you must punish me as well," she said finally and the elf froze to immobility. 

"I don't expect you to understand," he said, and his cool and dry tone betrayed his displeasure. "Our ways will seem harsh and relentless to you. But it is what has kept us here amongst you all this time. It is what helps us to fulfill our duty. The rules will not bend. Neither for Baeron, nor for anyone else." 

Legolas was exaggerating quiet a bit at this point. True, elves were obsessed with justice and rules. But since none would go against these concepts normally or willingly, whenever a breach happened, it was bound to have a good reason and therefore was handled with tolerance. It was not in their nature to be insensitive or purely dogmatic and even the most dreadful of punishments was extremely rare and often involved only a temporary removal from service. A few centuries, to be exact. And yes, it was a terrible thing for an elf - since being so few in number they were rather adamant about their ties, but it happened only in very grave situations. Legolas did not tell her that Sharing was often considered an act of personal preference and that Baeron could do anything he wished in that field unless it became a harmful habit on his behalf with grave results for the mortals on more than one occasion. 

"Fine. I expect nothing less," she said, pushing up her chin, staring into his eyes. "That justice would certainly require me to be punished, as well. Because I asked it of him."

"You did not ask it," he growled, somewhat annoyed by her protection of Baeron. 

"I would have," she said, waving her hand in a dismissive manner. "Half the crime is mine and I will not let Baeron suffer on my behalf."

He took a deep breath, trying to calm something peculiar that woke in him at her prodding. It was not nice and pleasant and he would rather see it asleep. "Irulan," he tried again, but she cut him off:

"No. It is only 'just'! I will not crawl away from my mistakes!"

She crossed her arms in a stubborn manner and before he could control it, his reaction rolled off his tongue: "You seem very concerned for Baeron. He has gained your liking rather quickly!"

They looked at each other, both somewhat baffled by that sudden and bitter comment. A moment later Irulan just took a deep breath and resumed her cool pose. She did indeed feel protective of him. Certainly he was not the only guilty one here! Besides...the Sharing had brought her much closer to the elf. She could not help feeling defensive of him. "He is a likeable person," was the dry reply. 

Legolas, who already regretted speaking the sentence, felt a punch landing on his stomach at her unexpected reaction. And the flame that was about to extinguish with his efforts only burst brighter at that. He fixed his eyes on her and something in his demeanor changed with frightening speed. "Is he now?" he said with a dangerous tone and Irulan swallowed, feeling suddenly uneasy. "Perhaps I am mistaken, Irulan, but you do not strike me as someone with a pledge to me." His gaze swept over her features in a frosty manner and Irulan, baffled at how fast his mood could change, remained unsure how to respond. "And I do not find myself in the position of someone to whom this pledge was made. Are there any more demands you wish to make of me?"

Now rather intimidated, Irulan released her arms and slowly lowered them. "No," she said weakly, "that's not what I meant." He watched her in piercing silence and she forced herself to continue: "But you said it would be unjust if-"

"I know what I said," he intervened. His eyes bore into hers, the jealousy burning like liquid fire through his veins. "Will you choose to stand beside Baeron at the price of going against my word?" Actually what he really wanted to ask was "Would you prefer Baeron over me?", but of course that would be most unwise. It was a close enough question, anyway. 

She looked back at him for a long time. Surely she could not leave the other elf to his fate! That would be most terrible. But...she had a pledge to him. A most serious pledge and God knows she had not been acting accordingly. "No," she sighed finally. "I will do as you ask, Legolas." He remained unmoving and Irulan added: "I am sorry."

Unexpected for him, this brought no satisfaction whatsoever. He turned his head away, a bitterness spreading in his heart. "As I ask," he hissed almost inaudibly. "Not because you wish to, but because I ask." 

Irulan did not know what to say to that, so she said nothing, watching his silent anger and agony. "I am sorry," she said again a moment later as he refused to look back and instead, chose to shut his eyes with a sigh and pinch his nose, remaining silent. "I just.....I just feel......" She did not finish, in fear that he would respond with anger again. 

"You feel close to Baeron," he sighed bitterly.

"I…yes," was her reluctant reply.

She observed him nodding and dropping his hand. Still Legolas did not face her, but chose to look out to the dark hills. "It is because he Shared with you. You have a bond now." He swallowed softly, suppressing the frustration that came with that thought. The dread of that fact was sharp and raw. Nothing could break the bond of Sharing. For all times now, Irulan would feel it, as would Baeron. Very few experiences would rival it and other than the Bond of Love, nothing would ever exceed it. For someone whose lover had been 'snatched away' and tied with a bond 'behind his back' (to put it in human terms), Legolas would deem himself rather civilized. Though at this moment he would chop off the other elf's head if given the chance, thoughts were far from action and he could still pass as a rational man. 

Irulan had to be blind, stupid and about 5 years old to miss the jealousy pulsing out of him. Thankfully she was none. "I have bonds with my family too," she said with haste. "And with my friends. I have a great bond with Anne!" 

'Friends!' he thought and almost laughed out loud. The tart aftertaste of that word scratched his skull with sharp, nasty claws. He chose to lock eyes with her then, trying really hard to hide his pain but not very good at the disguise. "True."

"And I have a bond with you, Legolas," she said, not satisfied with his reply. Her hand found his again, but this time even that was not enough to lift his spirits like it used to do. 

"Yes," he whispered, his blue eyes fixed on her, "the bond of the pledge."

Irulan blinked. "Of course not," she said with a low voice and watched momentary surprise floating over his expression. "I meant the bond of....of...." the word 'love' almost flew out of her mouth and it was only due to a miracle that Irulan managed to bite it down. Legolas looked at her for a long moment and she stared back, her heart beating like crazy at the realization that she had almost said 'love'.

Finally the elf smiled a disappointed smile and took a deep breath. He tore his gaze away again, simply because the agony was reaching unbearable degrees and it was becoming harder to resist it by the moment. The desire he felt for Irulan was downright amazing to him. Not to mention, highly disturbing.

Once again, his sadness did what nothing else could. To her own amazement, Irulan leaned closer and before she could think, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Instantly she thought herself both childish and foolish. 'I mean...what kind of modern adult from New York would kiss in this manner?!' she moaned mentally as a blush of embarrassment and frustration hit her cheeks. 

She had no way of knowing, of course, that what she found embarrassing and naive (and rightfully so, too), Legolas only found astonishing and admirably attractive. Needless to say that no other woman had acted this shy towards him. Especially when he was the pursuer. To be honest, they had been more than willing to give in. He glided his fingers over her pinkish cheeks and just looked at her for a long moment and she stared back rather uneasily, thinking that she must have done something unbefitting or rude. 

And then Legolas could not hold back if the world had stopped, time was reversed and Aragorn himself had appeared to tell him not to touch Irulan. He could not hold back if it meant absolute death to him. There was no struggle of will, the sign of resistance, the battle of opposites or the sound of reason. He moved like he had moved countless times in battle - with no thought, but pure and natural action. 

One moment he was gazing down at Irulan and the fraction of a time after that, his lips claimed hers. 

And then, everything was over. 

One would think that a kiss is where it all begins - the story, the tale, the trouble, the road...This kiss was exactly where it all ended. The cacophony of sounds and the tumultuous noise that was life suddenly plateaud and halted. Silence came. One could never guess the degree of constant noise around us unless one has heard such silence. A gentle, soothing, calming silence. The final destination. The end of chaotic struggle. The last note in a symphony. The final stroke on a painting. The last glimpse of each other on a parting day. The ending word in a long, long novel. 

The stillness that fell on his mind was like dusk falling on the hardest day. No matter what that day held now -and it held the agony, struggle, effort, work of thousands upon thousands of years- it was over. Rest was here. And never had he felt so much in need of rest. Of this incredible quiet. Of this fantastic immobility. Of this night that promised nothing but the view of stars and the lullaby of the wind in the trees. This limbo -the place between ending and a new beginning- was perfect beyond words and beautiful beyond description. It held the satisfaction of all former deeds and the promise and excitement of new, upcoming days. It was what 'Irulan' meant. 

A memory came then. Soft and gentle was its approach. Like the warmth after flames had died, it was – an afterglow…a tender reminder…the echo of a whisper. 

Once, countless ages ago, in a world that only breathed in the memory of so few now, Legolas had witnessed a most peculiar storm. It was on his return from a successful battle with the orcs that had broken through the borders of Mirkwood yet again - which was happening more and more in the last years. Him and his band of warriors had dispatched three days ago to ride to the border, tracking the creatures. Finally they had managed to corner them and a short but brutal encounter had erupted. He had lost many of his friends that day. 

Victorious but tired, they had taken the road back home. The sky had darkened first and the elves had cast nervous glances upward, sensing the charge in the air. Some had climbed to the higher branches and had reported a mighty storm coming in. And yet they had traveled on, eager to reach the heart of the city for the wounded ones. A slight drizzle had begun as they had left the trees and stepped into a patch of the open. Making haste to another array of trees in the distance, they had climbed over small hills and back down. Until a terrible sound had echoed in the woods and Legolas had turned on his horse to behold the view behind him. 

Never would the sight before him leave his memory. The wind had been whipping him as a heavy rain suddenly poured down, soaking his entire attire, streaming down his face and his hair. A gust of air and water had smashed against his cheeks and almost rolled him off his stallion. And then his gaze had beheld the swollen, menacing clouds up ahead, like some strange smoke that intended to swallow the world in whole. White streaks of lightning danced in their bellies, flashing with temper and impatience again and again. And strangest of all, the sunlit day, refusing to vanish even under such an attack, had prevailed in the background. Large streaks of golden sunlight were slashing the swollen black clouds again and again, sending down rays that were no less baffling and blinding in their brightness. 

Legolas had remained, agape and carried away, watching the dance of darkness and light as the clouds chaotically and yet gracefully broke up again and again, sending a stream of golden light between their cracks, then hastily rushed to fill up their gaps, only to tear up somewhere else. 

Now, when his lips found Irulans, out of nowhere and though not recalled for the longest time, that scenery suddenly hit him, exactly like the shower of rain had done, that day. There was nothing now to remind him of such a recollection - how could there be? And yet, the feeling he felt at that particular instant was, in its tone, hue and touch, exactly like the one that he had felt millennia ago. When he was another Legolas. When Irulan was only a name that would gain spirit and body after a long, long, long line of other names and bodies. 

Shocked by his sentiments, he slowly pulled back -just a little bit- and opened his eyes to look down at her. Though they stood almost nose to nose, their lips inches apart, the distance seemed suddenly too great for him as the strangest of vacuums gaped open in him. He resisted the tendency to prolong the taste that he instantly seemed to miss and locked eyes with her, as Irulan stared back in equal shock and confusion. Her scent washed over him then, as well as her physical warmth and the heat of her breath. 

A long moment passed. Long, even for an elf. The idea of moving away was replaced with the wish to remain. The option of letting go was overpowered by the desire to prevail the hold. The thought of parting was washed away with the urge to entwine. The longer the time, the stronger the desire to return to the taste and the storm. When he felt himself leaning in again -this time much slower, his gaze washing over her features- a curiosity as to whether it would feel the same or not, along with the need to relive the same sentiments flamed in him. A part of his mind took in her stance and her pose that said that  she was dazed beyond movement and seemed frozen, not able to push herself or him away. Perhaps she, too, was perceiving the same strange waves of mood. Or perhaps not. At that moment, Legolas did not care. Too tangled was his mind with his own confusing and curious discovery. 

His lips found hers again, the kiss far more gentle and soft this time, as his eyes shut him off the world. And it felt...far better. It was liquid fire. It was cool water. It was the chilly morning dew on grass. It was the warmth of sunlight on the face. It was the heat of flames. The biting frost of ice. It was the humid touch of a lush, enclosed forest. And the brisk air of a late, lazy summer day. It was the pulsating warmth of a lover's hand. And the cool dread of its absence. 

Legolas tilted his head the other way and immediately kissed her again, this time even slower but deeper. He could not decide which was more mind-blowing, more devastating, more breath-taking. So he kissed her again, from another angle and this time forcefully, his fingers grasping the roots of her hair, the rougher texture of it a comfortable feeling in his hand. Certainly this one was superior to all - this touch, this taste and this feeling! And yet...he tried another kiss - a gentle and seductive capturing of the lower lip and by the Valar, that was beyond any of the former ones! His hands cupped her face and another, more passionate one followed and the elf became certain that it was THE ultimate kiss. Though he changed his mind with the next one. And the one after that. And the one after that one. 

His mind expanded from one horizon to the next, like the calm surface of water. He did not THINK at that moment. He only understood…many things at once. 

***

"Do not go, Prince!" cautioned the figure beside him. He did not blink at his intrusion, looking down from the high wall of his mighty fortress. Though a speck of a person from here, Irulan was easy to pick out, standing alone and apart from her dark mass of troops, her feet slightly placed apart, her gaze turned up to him. Her hair was free, flowing in the ruffling breeze, the color a deep contrast to his silver one that shone like a troubled river today. Her white armor too, was the opposite of his black one. She wore metal, he wore soft tunic. She was human, he was elf. They were as different as two beings could be. And yet destined to be together. 

"Do not go. She will slay you!" 

He should listen, should he not? He should not leave the safety of his fortress. Not while that dark mass of troops was waiting behind her, as threatening as any army could be. 

And yet, suddenly he was striding down the stairs of a tower, his feet making no sound, only the slight rustle and scraping of tunic and blades audible in the dusty silence of it. His fingers reached out and traced the rough pattern of stone bricks during his spiral descent that mirrored his spiral descent to an unfathomable darkness and uncertain turmoil perfectly. Cold felt the stone. As did everything else in this fortress. Colder than ice. 

Moments later he was outside. The gloomy day revealed no sun, only a dull, bluish light and churning meager clouds in the heavens, dashed to and fro by the wind. Distantly he heard the creaking of the gigantic gates and his steps did not falter, though his ever loyal subject of Reason yelled from the wall for second thoughts, for wiser decisions, for rational moves. Irulan did not move as he walked up to her, in perfect opposition to everything that she was. Nor did any other move as time hung in limbo. No sound echoed in the battlefield and the wind was the only source of motion, playing with their hair and their attire. 

When he finally stood before her, gazing down into her brown depths that held his blue fire evenly, the voice of his Reason was silenced too and nothing spoke, moved, breathed or shifted for a long time. 

"I have come," she said finally, not looking away, and the simple words said everything there was to say. "Too long have you dwelt in these walls, my friend." 

Legolas turned to look at his work that stood in fabulous perfection. Not a single brick too many, not a single tower too less. Straight and rigid, safe and strong. "Too long," he sighed absent-mindedly. A moment later he locked eyes once more and held her gaze for another moment. "Let us set the battlements on fire." 

Irulan smiled then, her lips curving up in a mysterious fashion. "And..." she said with a low voice as she pulled out her bulky metal glove and held out her hand and the elf hesitated momentarily before he pulled off his suede glove and reached to grasp it. In this world of cool, cold, frosty, icy and chilly, her touch was the only warmth and devastating on his senses. "...never look back." 

*****


	14. Of Love and Madness

Everyone has sent in magnificent reviews. It is an honor to be the receiver of those. 

He knew it right then and there. He simply knew it - like a bird that knows all the mechanics of flying and a fish that knows all the intricate details of swimming. He knew with a certainty beyond anything that it was neither charm nor attraction he felt for Irulan. Nor was it interest, intrigue or mere passion. Oh no...oh no...far from it! And how he did not see it before, was a miracle in itself. It was so obvious! When Legolas finally released her lips to taste the skin of her cheeks and her neck in a lazy, slow pace, how much time had passed, neither did know. It mattered little. Here, in these hills that shimmered with the past, "time" was only a word. But he had changed. He had grown.

He sighed and with a final kiss on her neck, moved up to place his forehead on her temple, inhaling her incredible scent and her invigorating warmth. "A fool! A fool I am, Irulan!" he whispered as his hand cupped her opposite cheek and pulled her closer to himself. He chuckled softly, almost bitterly. "A fool." He planted another kiss on her cheek, then resumed his pose, feeling her quickened pulse beating into his forehead and his fingers that rested on her neck. 

Irulan had no idea what to say. Neither did she know what to think. Even less did she know what she felt. Many moments passed in that state of perfect confusion and the daze only broke when Legolas sighed softly, then retrieved his hand from the crook of her neck to pull her even closer by the waist, embracing her tightly in that entwined state. 

Her hands grasped his arm and Irulan tried once more to return to the present. The sirens of her mind sang and sang and she looked over the rim of her ship as they swam like smoke in the dark waters, dancing an entrancing dance, calling for her to leave it all and jump. And how she wanted to jump! To dive into the cool waves and join them in their ethereal and eternal existence.

"What...did you do?" she managed to choke out, certain that it was a spell. A curse. A mind-trap. An illusion. Anything...anything but a kiss! 

He did not answer right away and her heart pulsed in her ears, the blood in her face warm as if she had been under the sun for many hours. "What I should have done the moment I met you." 

Many more minutes passed. The trees above them sang, the clouds in the sky glided away, people in the villages down below turned off their lights and gave in to slumber. Irulan remained in his embrace, the chill and darkness of the night completely forgotten. Still the sirens sang and still she dug her fingers into the wooden rim of her vessel, refraining from giving in. Even though his embrace seeped through her spirit like water seeping through earth and pushed everything aside and away. 

The incredible shock of the kiss slowly faded away with the peace and satisfaction that were pulsing out from the elf - so evident, that she was baffled by their depth. It tore away her confusion, alarm and hesitation and Irulan, against all resistance, began to relax. His hands stroked her arm and her back gently and skillfully, and try as she might, she had no strength to undo what he was doing. Relief washed over her with persistence and finally with absolute victory. 

When Legolas pulled away to look down at her, it was as if they had been standing like that for days and their intimacy was the most natural of things. As if the man and the woman who barely knew each other had disappeared and miraculously replaced by another couple - a couple that stretched back years and perhaps decades. A couple where each knew the other as good as any person could know another. A couple that had shared all there was to share in life and only yearned to do it all over again. And again. And again. 

His fingers touched her cheek and she swallowed softly, her gaze fixed on his blue eyes. Her hands on his arm gained a softer hold on it as Legolas continued to brush away the hair from her forehead. 'Where is the embarrassment?' Irulan thought, mildly surprised. No embarrassment. It was the most natural thing...why did she think merely minutes ago that it should be embarrassing?

He leaned back then, his fingers gliding down her cheeks. A wide smile was on his perfect lips and his eyes were pools of clear, blue water. He sighed for the third time and watched her expression that held surprise and unease. She was so fabulous in this state - flushed, surprised, timid! He cupped her face and kissed her cheek heartily, his heart bouncing in his chest with pure joy as his chuckles turned into laughter a moment later. 

"What....is it?" the woman said finally, her unease giving in to amusement at that unbelievable sound. Who, on earth, could remain tense and stressed while an elf laughed? 

"Irulan," he said slowly, locking eyes with her again, "be with me."

She broke into a smile. "I am with you," she said, not in understanding of his words. 

"No," he whispered, a small but rather grave smile adorning his own lips, "BE with me. Be my lover."

She froze then and she looked at him for quite a while as Legolas did not cease his caress of her skin. "I told you that I need time," she managed to choke out finally, feeling somewhat exposed. "Merely a day has passed since you asked."

Legolas smiled slowly and said nothing for a moment or two. "A century has passed, to me," was the husky reply. He watched her open and close her mouth several times, in obvious attempt to refuse, and found an almost agonizing joy at her realization that she had no reason to object. "I want to hear it. Say it, Irulan."

She remained silent. Now this was very scary. Sure...she could have intimacy with Legolas while they were on this crazy trip. And a kiss would fit into that intimacy perfectly. But she had always thought that it would end when they returned to England. A wonderful, eccentric and exciting experience it would remain. All this talk about the coming future and his requests for her to leave New York...this was serious. VERY serious. 

He leaned in further, standing nose to nose with her. "Say it," he whispered again, his eyes glued to hers. 

"Legolas," she began cautiously, "I will not lie. I fear this. I fear you." 

He smiled again, but did not move away. "You have feared enough for this lifetime," he said, his fingers gliding over her cheek. She stared back at him. Indeed...how right he was! "Say it," he added with a murmur. 

Irulan pursed her lips and tried to think really hard. 'Why not?' was the only sentence that came to her mind, though at this moment she wished for rather discouraging things to occur to her. 'Why the hell not?' Other than the fact that she was not a person of commitment. And being with an elf...hell, being with LEGOLAS was, no doubt, a commitment – it was obvious that he was an extremely demanding man. He would never let her stray off and have a separate life somewhere else. He had said so, did he not? A relationship meant being together. 

Her lips twisted bitterly and she gave him a long, sad look. "Do we really have a say in things, Legolas?" was her sudden, surprising question. A deep breath followed as Irulan gazed towards the dark and silent hills. "Do you think we have a choice?"

He did not answer right away. But when he spoke, his voice had an intensity to it. "I do not know. But know this – if I had a say, my wish would not be different." He leaned in to kiss her cheek again. And then again. And once more, before he enfolded her in a loose embrace. 

"If it is my WISH you are asking," was her reluctant response, "Yes, I wish to be with you."

A long moment passed and Legolas remained so silent that she heard her own heart beating with a hasty rhythm and the soft whisper of her own breath. Something shifted between them and a strange sensation came over her. It took her a moment to adjust to its intensity, for if her own sentiments were air, this was water – dense and tangible. An unexpected pang of joy flew through her and Irulan gasped despite herself, flinching slightly with that. So strong it was, that one could plant the world with it, and end up having some left. It was a merry dance of hope and excitement; the waltz of passion and tender care; the ballet of glee and surprise. Irulan stared at him, dumfounded as his emotions lashed out of his control and like wild horses running to their freedom, flew from the confinement of his spirit as a fabulous aura. 

Legolas leaned his forehead on hers, closing his eyes and finally, with much effort on his behalf, the feeling subsided, folded, and became something different. Peace came - gentle and natural...like shadows appearing with twilight. An incredible relief she sensed, and serenity...the satisfaction of a completed task. Irulan, too, closed her eyes, letting it wash over her and claim her psyche. And that seemed to be a better thing to do than fighting or fearing it. It enveloped her like skin covers flesh and became her own. She took a deep breath as all else was washed away. This tranquility was beyond anything and she wished nothing more than to remain in its fold. The awe of making any person feel like this blinked somewhere in the farthest corners of her mind that felt numb with the settling peace. Her! Irulan! What strange world was this where a simple, ordinary woman like herself could touch the heart of a fabulous man like Legolas in this devastating manner? 

It ended too soon. The elf slowly but steadily re-gained the control of his sentiments, so the serenity became less and less, and finally faded away. Her eyes fluttered open, and she found him looking down at her. He smiled and kissed her forehead again as deep disappointment took hold of her heart and the wish to return to that state of quiet and calmness burned in her. But his elven shield was up again (it was a miracle that it had fallen like that, in the first place) and for now, further passage through that wondrous garden was beyond her. 

"That is a wish I can fulfill," he whispered finally with the last remnants of relief. His hands glided around her waist and he pulled her even closer, molding her to himself, and Irulan slowly embraced his shoulders. Once again, things were not proceeding, but jumping ahead in giant leaps. Two days now and she was already in Legolas' arms, subject to his kisses and as from minutes ago, officially his lover! 'And I thought everything with elves happened slow and gentle!' she sighed mentally. Well maybe with normal elves it did. As she had come to realize, Legolas was no normal elf. And less so with every day. 

Legolas ignored the bafflement that emanated from her and continued caressing her back. Moments ago, this had been a very attractive woman whom he had been courting and who had agreed to be his lover. That, no doubt, was a wonderful phenomenon. But barely moments after that.....she was not that woman any longer. Here was a woman he was utterly, fiercely and absolutely in love with. She was his savior. His pillar of strength. His object of adoration. Master to his heart and equal to his soul. 

How the mechanics of love worked, he did not know and had no interest in knowing. For, unlike humans, elves were not fond of dissecting their sentiments. Was a human being the mere combination of blood, cells, DNA, tissues and hormones? Only a fool would think that. Long ago Legolas had sat by an eccentric DaVinci and watched him work with the patience only an elf could muster. He had watched the man's sentiments gaining color and stroke, the invisible becoming visible on the canvas. From dusk till dawn he had watched, for days and weeks. And yet…it was too fast for his eyes. Too elusive for his senses. Too cunning for his mind. What this master artist saw, sensed and translated had been beyond him. And he had been cursed to seek it for all times. 

Until now. Because now that very something that he had chased year in and year out, had found its way into his arms. And it was far more beautiful than anything DaVinci had ever created. 

Though they both had been oblivious to it, an astonishing amount of time had passed when Legolas finally pulled her up by the hand and kissed her palm, his eyes glued to hers. The night had not changed at all - except perhaps grown a little colder and most of the village lights had faded away. She shook again with a soft tremble. They had been sitting all this time and the cold had worked its way into her bones. A frown settled on the elf's face as he watched her. 

"You are cold," he said with a baffled expression. His surprise was not due to her state, but rather to the fact that he had completely forgotten and ignored it. 

"A little," lied Irulan, her teeth clattering and her figure shaking slightly against all control. 

His face hardened with his silent scolding of his own stupidity. In a fluid manner he began to take off his coat when Irulan intervened: "No, Legolas! I am fine! I'll be warmer once we begin to walk."

"Forgive me," he replied, her objections bouncing off his alarm, "it is not like me to forget." He covered her shoulders with it, arranging the clothing on her as Irulan opened her mouth, but was cut off: "I do not feel it, Irulan. Neither will I get ill. But you might." He cupped her cheeks to look into her eyes that were watering with the prevailing wind. "Come," he added with haste, embracing her waist and striding back, "let us be swift."

Irulan, hardly able to walk with this much weight and bulk on her, tried her best to keep up and not to think of how numb her hands felt. The way back seemed so much longer and when they finally arrived at the vehicle, Legolas opened the door, removed his coat from her shoulders and placed it like a blanket on her once she was seated. He closed the door and walked around to take his own place. Immediately he turned on the heater and took another look at Irulan, who felt like a little child amongst the layers of heavy fabric. "I am all right," she said and found a napkin from her jacket pocket, wiping her nose with it. 

The elf did not answer but his annoyance at his own disregard was evident on his face as he moved the car and turned around to drive to the pension. For a while none spoke and the only sound was her sniffing that seemed to increase with the warmth in the vehicle. Irulan, rather irritated at her own human weakness and certain that it must be somewhat disgusting in the eyes of an elf, tried to be as quiet as possible. Upon receiving a string of worried glances from him she finally moaned in protest: "Stop acting like it's the end of the world, Legolas! I was not aware of the cold, either."

Instantly a slow smile built up on his lips and he gave her a long look before he turned back to the road. His hand reached up to her and Irulan held it as he gently squeezed her fingers. "Tonight, I am the happiest man of all," he said quietly as she watched his handsome profile with disbelief. "You shall never regret this day, Irulan," he said gently and glanced at her once more. 

Neither knew yet that Irulan would regret it. Deeply. 

She sniffed some more, then let go of his hand as he changed gears and the first residences of the town appeared before them. "Does this mean that the courting is over?" she laughed suddenly. Seldom had Irulan felt this excited and happy at the same time. A new life lay before her and it held everything that she had always hoped for!

He gave her a surprised glance and grinned as her laughter continued. "Of course not!" he said slyly. "It has just begun!"

She sniffed and moaned with mock frustration. "Has ANYBODY ever managed to resist this courting thing in the history of mankind?!"

"No one to my knowledge," was his curt and amused response. 

Their cheeky argument continued for the short time it took them to arrive at the pension where Legolas pulled her out and adjusted the coat on her again, then guided her in. He had stayed with her yesterday in Paris, yes, but that had been due to her recent Sharing experience. At least that had been the excuse. But today he had demanded two rooms from the old couple that owned this place. Though he wished nothing more than remain with her through the night, Legolas would never cross the line without consent. No elf would. At least not while he still had sense in him. 

Once in her room that held a small and already lighted fireplace, Irulan felt already much better. Not to mention, very tired. She peeled off her outer garments, then changed into her pajamas as the elf disappeared to find some hot tea. Irulan waited, seated in front of the fireplace, a blanket on her shoulders. She stretched her numb fingers and held them closer to the dancing flames. 

A moment passed. Then another. An eerie feeling came onto her, crawling up slyly and timidly. Like a shadow that falls on you while you are busy doing some other deed, it fell on her psyche and she resisted the urge to lift up her head and look around. 'There is no other in this room with me. I KNOW that!' she thought sharply and kept her gaze ahead. True to her expectations, nothing happened. But the shadow did not lift. She shifted and sat back, the comfort from a moment ago, gone. Another moment passed as Irulan tried to understand why that was. She dug and dug, her mental focus sharp with the alarm that seemed to have sprung forth for no particular reason at all. "Don't be silly!" she said out loud, hoping that the sound of her own voice would help to convince her. "Everything is all right. Legolas will be back in a moment. Tomorrow you will be in Vienna. What the hell is the matter with you?!"

Nothing but utter silence came in reply. Silence - except for the cackling sound of the fire. And then her mind knew instantly the source of the tension and a second after that Irulan was on her feet, grasping the blanket that hung from her shoulders and two steps away from the fireplace. She stood there for a short while, swallowing softly while the feeling of cold deserted her completely. "Enough, Irulan!" she hissed to herself. "Don't be childish! There is nothing to fear."

A slight tremble came over her and she had come to fear and hate it. Intimidation turned into a fin, drawing lazy, large circles around as she tried to keep herself from sinking into the deep, dark waters. She ignored the painful beating of her heart and hastily turned her back to the fire, now trembling even stronger. "Enough!" she said again, but the decisive edge was gone. It sounded more like whining than anything else at the moment. The fear was irrational. Even foolish. And yet it was there, and refused to desert her although her senses told her over and over again that there was no one and nothing in this room with her. 

"It is the Sharing. It is only an after-effect. It is in your mind, stupid woman!" she said, her voice shaky. And yet, her heart paced even faster and faster and when the faintest shadow of pain glimmered in the horizon, Irulan gave up the denial. It was real! Panic came over her with the anticipation of the pain that seemed inevitable now. She would burn again! Her lungs shrank into nothing as she tried to take deep gasps of breath, but failed pathetically. 

Without a second thought she turned to the door, ripped it open and ran out. In the corridor a momentary relief bloomed in her. The room was behind her now. As were the...the.....

"The flames," whispered an amused Joan of Arc in her head and it was enough to make her walk down the deserted, dim corridor with large steps. She did not halt or look when she arrived at the bottom of the stairs and hastily walked out the door, right into the blowing cold. Irulan felt no cold at the moment and cherished the open, hoping that it would help her draw breath again. 

She took another step, heaving with the effort. Then another, since the cold asphalt beneath her feet felt very comforting. The wind tore at her long blanket and her free hair, snuggling through her pajamas and licking her overheated skin. And it was a welcome feeling. She was about to discard the blanket entirely to cherish the chilly air when hands landed on hers and prevented the motion. Irulan jumped with the unexpected touch and would have cried out if she had the breath for it. Legolas appeared before her an instant later, looming over her, a very intimidating expression on his face. 

She froze at his sight, feeling many things at once. First there was the shock of his sudden appearance and with it came an almost instantaneous relief and the undeniable feeling of salvation. About five seconds after staring into this piercing blue look, both sentiments dwindled into a very strong shame. She swallowed softly as the look of alarm and worry on his face deepened and Legolas grasped her chin, pulling up her face. A gust of wind blew their hair to the left as his eyes bore into hers and she became very conscious of the fact that she was standing in the open, barefoot and with her pajamas. That certainly was not good. Not good at all. Because she looked five years old - not the mature and independent woman she wanted to appear to him.

"What are you doing?" he said finally, his voice steely and alarmed at the same time. "What happened?"

Irulan shook her head heftily. "Nothing!" she croaked. Then again: "Nothing." Her hands enclosed on his in an attempt to pull it away but Legolas would have none of it. He stepped closer to her, his other hand grasping her elbow. 

"Tell me why you are out here. Now, Irulan!" 

The demand and the command in his tone was heavy, but she found nothing to say. It sounded so foolish now and not half as real as it had been moments ago. She shook her head again and instead of an answer, leaned into this chest. Legolas hesitated for another moment, then embraced her as Irulan exhaled with relief and leaned further in, grasping the front of his shirt with both hands and closing her eyes. He did not move until the wind blew from the other direction and reminded them both of their state. Then Irulan felt herself being picked up and carried back to the pension. Her first reaction was to attempt to release herself from his arms, but the elf only grasped her stronger when she stirred. He did not say anything and his face was sharp and unreadable. 

They passed by the old woman who held the prepared tea in her hand, watching them with shock and alarm. She asked something in German and Legolas replied without hesitation, but did not halt as he moved up the stairs. Irulan gave up trying when the woman followed them with small and hasty steps and she feared to ask him to lower her down while the elf looked as he did at the moment. So she kept still as he walked into the room and waited by the bed and the woman pulled the covers away, Legolas then lay her down, pulling them over her once more. They exchanged a few more sentences and the owner of the pension finally left, squeezing Irulan's hand and pointing out the tea while she added a few more words in German. 

Irulan sank under the covers as the elf's gaze remained plastered on her face. The door clicked shut and his expression did not change at all as Irulan sank even deeper, pulling the heavy sheet up to her nose. They gazed at each other for a moment or two before she mumbled: "Am I going mad, Legolas?"

He exhaled loudly and finally his face lost some of its blankness as he slowly sank to sit close to her. "No," he whispered a moment later, then pulled the cover down and cupped her face, giving her a long look. "No. You will be fine."

Irulan nodded with dismay and took a shaky breath. Her next question was perhaps a more frightening one on her behalf: "Am I too weak?"

The elf blinked before his eyebrows rose. "Weak?" he said slowly with slight disbelief. "No. On the contrary, you are dealing with it rather well, Irulan."

"I doubt that," she croaked finally, her shame and her fear a heavy shadow on her heart. Once again, the waning shock of the event had left its residue - the sharp need to cry. But this time she was determined to fight it. 

"Believe it," he said softly, drawing closer and caressing her cheek. That only seemed to push up the tears further and required greater strength to fight the urge. "It is not easy and you are very strong in the face of it. It will take time."

"How long?" she said, finding his eyes once more. 

Legolas sighed deeply. "Not too long," was his final reply. 

A moment passed between them and the elf used it to urge her to drink the hot liquid. Irulan did not resist and finished it quickly. "I do not feel it when I am with you," she said then, many minutes later. 

He merely nodded to that. "Yes, it helps to be in the presence of an elf." 

Irulan looked at him for a long moment, a deft smile emerging on her face. "I don't think it's because you are an elf, Legolas," was her gentle statement. A bloom of surprise and delight emerged on his expression as he sat, his eyes never leaving hers, his hand folded over her fingers. It was true - Irulan felt safe with Legolas. And yes, the effects of Sharing did indeed lessen with the proximity of the elves (and that was why after controlled Sharing the subjects were always kept under their guidance for a certain amount of time), but she realized that, given the choice, she would not want to be with any other than Legolas. Not Haldir. Not Baeron. Not Analoth. But Legolas. 

The man gave her a long, deep look. His fingers glided through her hair, his gaze heavy on her. "Do not worry," he whispered, "I will not let harm come to you. The pain of the memory will not touch you at my side, Irulan."

"I know," was the almost inaudible reply. 

"And I shall be by your side," he added a moment later. "Always."

He slowly leaned in and kissed her cheek, then pulled back shortly afterwards, his head spinning from her intoxicating proximity. An instant surprise followed when Irulan followed his example and placed a kiss on his cheek. He hesitated with the excitement of it, then leaned in again and planted another, at the corner of her lips. She smiled with amusement, her eyes incredibly beautiful to him in this light. A kiss on the exact spot of his face followed. A mirror smile emerged on his lips. Who would believe now that one was an adult from New York and the other –even worse!- an elf, born ages upon ages ago?

Once again he tilted forward, ever so slowly, this time brushing his lips over hers. Incredible passion was throbbing in him, but he refrained from turning the mere contact into a kiss until he felt her response. Nevertheless, once that response came, it was beyond his power to remain in disinterest to it. His hand found on her neck, pulling her closer as his lips pressed with further urgency. His tongue gently parted her lips and to his joy, she allowed him to continue. A tremor of excitement traveled through him and Legolas slowly delved into her mouth. Her taste took hold of his spirit and his mind as his tongue brushed against hers with the lazy grace of a planet, moving against the orbit of another. Nothing, absolutely nothing in this world could compare to this and everything was doomed to live in the shadow of this experience from now on. 

It was a kiss that spoke of gentleness and deep affection, along with controlled passion and Irulan gave in to its strong, yet subtle power. She had no chance of resisting, anyway. Like all its predecessors, this one too would burn her entire being with that deep, but so desirable fire - whether she fought it or not. And she would not fight it. No principle, logical explanation, rational excuse, moral taboo or social fear could make her turn her back to a gift of this nature. Because that's what the kiss of an elf was - a gift. A praise. A compliment. A word of deep kindness and a comforting hand on the shoulder. An act of flaming passion and the protective shelter that meant safety. She feared this road, yes. And God knows that the journey had been too sudden and too unexpected. But at this point, Irulan knew that she wanted nothing more than its continuance. Whatever the price. Whatever the destination. Whatever the outcome. In this world of many, many solitary 'I's, Irulan had found the majestic 'We' and she did not have the heart or the wish to let it slip away. 

For many minutes they sat in silence, the rest of the world forgotten. Their mouths spoke silent poetry on each other's face, lips and hands. Neither would ever forget it, for neither could ever remember being this content before. If life was a series of hills, valleys and mountains, this was certainly a summit for both. A peak that overlooked many. 

Even though it was slow and gentle, they were both drowned with excitement and heaving when they stopped. Still, he was unwilling to let go. Like a moth he danced to her flame, desiring it beyond any manner that he could explain. She was tired. She had just emerged from another nasty after-shock of the Sharing experience. And yet, he longed to be as close to her as she would allow him to be. "You should rest," he choked out with regret as his hand entangled in her hair, speaking quite the opposite. 

To his great delight Irulan blinked with surprise and sat up slowly. "You will stay with me, yes?" she said with alarm. 

Legolas felt relief mingling with great joy in his heart once more. It was becoming a very familiar and also addictive sentiment. "Only if you want me to," he whispered.

"I want you to. Stay," she said, more than afraid that he might walk off and leave her alone. Besides...sleeping next to Legolas was rather addictive. She saw no reason to change it now. Especially now that they had an "official" bond established between them. 

Legolas chuckled softly and placed a swift, hard kiss on her lips. "I thought you would never ask," he sighed, his chuckles giving way to a beautiful smile. He disappeared to his own room to change into another –this time black- cotton sweater and cotton pants, all the time grinning in delight at the turn of things. Though he felt immense need for a physical union with Irulan, as an elf he had no desire to hasten it and thereby make it something PURELY physical. He felt so much more than simple bodily desire for her and he would never take a step to make it less than it was. But just like he would not think of crossing the line without consent and with solely sexual intentions, he would also not imagine to hesitate or remain indecisive when she showed said consent. He would not press his luck this night, for he was more than happy with his gain at this point. But he also knew that soon enough he would crave for more. And not too long after that, he would strive to attain that more. 

He returned to her room and found Irulan waiting anxiously, her face turned away from the fireplace. Legolas swung a silent curse at Baeron once more, though a darker side of him was very aware that he had to thank the elf for this current gift of intimacy with her. A very terrible thing to think. But no less true. 

The relief he saw on Irulan's face when he glided under the covers after he had turned off the lights in the room, was pure bliss on his soul. He pulled her closer and she fit perfectly, tucked into his figure. For long moments he remained elevated on his forearm, combing her hair back into a dark cluster of clouds, billowing behind her head on the pillow. She relaxed immensely under his expert touch, fascinated by it. Irulan snuggled even closer and there it was again – that unbelievable scent that she could only describe it as elvish. It was the scent of warmth and life itself, if such a thing was possible. 

Legolas watched her fall asleep. Her left hand loosened, but continued its grasp of the front of his sweater. The flames flickering in the fireplace were ever so slightly playing on her features. 'How is it possible that I have not seen her magnificent beauty at our first meeting?' he thought, frowning a little. The only unusual thing he remembered feeling at her sight back then, was that strange familiarity that he had experienced over and over again in her presence. He knew now that the reason for that was because she WAS familiar to him. She was his destiny. She was his and just like one would recognize one's own reflection in the water, his spirit had recognized her. 

He caressed her cheek and Irulan exhaled slowly with pleasure. He smiled and continued the movement. No doubt that he was pushing his luck, that he was being hasty and greedy. And yet, from a different point of view, it was already too late and he had a lot of catching up to do! 

Oh how he wished that he had found her when she was a mere baby! He would have taken care of her and raised her and protected her in the best way possible. Ah yes...Legolas would have been mentor and guide to her. Her best friend. Her most trusted confidant. Her companion in everything. He would have been there for every single important day - for separations and celebrations alike. He would have been by her side to cheer her up or to ease her crying. Of course...the boyfriend issue would have been a problem. She was his, after all. Promised to him. For all times. 

He would have told her all and taken her everywhere. And she would have grown used to him, dependent on him and on the company he offered. She would have missed him when away and cherished his presence when he returned. And not too long after that, she would have come to realize that Legolas loved her like no Man could and ever would. That he loved her beyond anything and everything - beyond time and age and race. 

Perhaps Irulan would have been taken aback by that discovery at first. And Legolas would have been gentle and patient, giving her time to digest. And after that time...yes...she would have loved him in return. And she would have allowed him to be more than a mere guide and friend. And not a single day would she come to regret that decision. 

He sighed and slowly glided down to lie beside her and to capture her in his embrace without waking her. None of that would ever happen, now. He had missed a gigantic slice of her hasty, short mortal life. He had no intentions of missing another single hour or another single day with idle hesitation from now on. 

***

The next morning Irulan woke up alone. After spending a few moments in deep confusion where she was (all this constant traveling needed some time to get used to), she remembered everything and took another look around the room. Legolas was not there. The fireplace was still active, but this time it felt not threatening at all to be alone in the room with the flames. As a matter of fact, now it seemed almost silly that she had felt so horrified by it yesterday. Almost. Eager to face the new day, Irulan yawned and trotted to the bathroom to get ready. 

Half an hour later she stepped out, ready to leave and far more awake. Legolas was waiting for her when she did. He had changed into jeans and a black turtleneck and his hair was hanging lose, slightly wet from the shower he must have taken in his own bathroom. At her sight, he smiled broadly and walked up to her. Irulan was caught off-guard when he gently cupped her face with both hands and gave her a slow but fiery kiss. Her heart stopped beating and her whole figure froze at its unexpected intensity. 

He pulled back then and brushed his thumb over her lips, his gaze fixed on hers. "Good morning," was the husky greeting, immediately followed by a brilliant smile. 

Irulan placed her own cool hands on his, chuckling despite herself. "Legolas!" she whispered, a little out of breath. She swallowed before she found the voice to continue: "You…surprised me." When his smile morphed into a grin, she took a deep breath to regain her senses and chuckled again. "Good morning to you, too."

His eyes swiftly grazed her face and found hers again. "You look fabulous, Irulan. But how do you feel?"

She laughed again, moving to break his hold of her and he gracefully stepped away to give her room. "I feel great! I was thinking that perhaps I have overreacted yesterday."

The elf pursed his lips and clasped his hands behind his back. He turned to the window, his gaze distant for a moment or two. "I am glad that the effect has faded. However…" -with that, he locked eyes with her again- "…do not underestimate yourself. Sharing is no easy feat. It takes time and much experience to get used to."

"Does that mean that it will be easier the next time?" was her excited question.

Legolas gave her one of those long, blank looks and she had come to learn that the blank look was not a particularly good one. "It WOULD be easier if there WOULD be a next time, yes," he said slowly. "But there won't."

Irulan rolled her eyes and went over to the shopping bags to pick out the new boots she had bought. "You never know," she mumbled on the way. 

Unfortunate for her, she was in the company of an elf and Legolas had heard her perfectly. He barely kept his mouth from falling open as he followed her. "And what exactly does that mean?" he said, his voice carrying both disbelief and mild anger. She gave him a look over her shoulder as she stood crouching over the bag, then fished out the boots and sat on the armchair to put them on. The man, annoyed by her lack of reply took another step. "You agreed not to Share with Baeron again."

"I did," she said simply, unlacing the boot in her hand. "But…Baeron is thankfully not the only elf," she added a moment later, a childish grin on her face. 

This time the disbelief finally managed to seep into his facial expression and he found no words to say for a moment. "Have you no regard for yourself at all?!" he seethed a moment later and her movements slowed drastically at his tone. She did not look up, though, and continued putting on the boots and tying them. "Twice now you have seen what it can do! And still you ask for more?"

She sighed and finished her task before she slowly looked up to meet his gaze. They stared at each other for a short moment. "You said that it will be easier the next time."

Anger had gained dominance when he spoke again: "There will be no next time, Irulan."

"And you said if it's done in a less sudden way and when the memory is not so grave-.."

"I said," he seethed, now merely a step from her, "there…will…be…no…next…time!"

She exhaled in frustration and stood up, facing him. "Haldir would be careful, I'm sure. So would Analoth."

That was definitely the wrong thing to say, because Legolas' eyes widened with surprise and another, darker emotion. She stared back at him with unease as he took the last step and stood looming over her, his glare speaking of deep fury. "What?!" he whispered with perfect threat. A moment of silence passed between them. "Tell me that I have misheard you, Irulan," he growled. "You will SHARE with another elf?"

Only then did Irulan remember that she was his lover now. And that her suggestion was very much like stating that she meant to kiss other men. "NO!" she exclaimed with haste, then halted, shocked at her own stupidity. "No! I meant…I meant to say…I mean…IF I ever Shared with them!" This didn't lift his sizzling anger much and Legolas exhaled a slow, fuming breath as unconsciously his hands rolled into fists. "But I won't, of course!" she added with urgency. He crossed his arms on his chest, his face gaining a placid expression once more. It was like mist on water – making her navigation very uneasy and risky and Irulan hesitated how to conclude. "Not while…not while WE can Share, Legolas," she whispered finally, slowly placing her hand on his forearm. 

The elf stilled for a moment, suddenly surprised by the appeal of that idea. 'No! It is wrong! It is a burden for them!' a voice in his mind urged. True enough, it was. But done properly and under his constant guidance…'No! Are you out of your mind, Legolas?' it intervened again. He sighed mentally, his eyes still fixed on the timid but expectant gaze of Irulan. 'She is my lover. I will take care of her,' he argued weakly. 'Stop it!' came the intervention instantly. 'Her mortal curiosity and childishness can be no reason to fulfill her every wish! She does not know better. But you do!'

"We will not Share," he said finally, turning away from her. 

He could even FEEL the disappointment that streamed out of her with that answer, but stubbornly turned his back to it. "Why not?" was her late and slow question. 

"I will tell you all you ask, Irulan," he said, somewhat more gently, but dared not turn around to face her. "But we will not Share. It will only confuse and burden you. There is no need for such a thing."

Irulan remained silent for many moments and Legolas clenched his jaw with the effort to resist the temptation to give in. Sharing was the most intimate act for an elf and his heart leapt at the thought of doing it with Irulan. But it was wrong. It was not natural for mortals. No, he would not surrender to his own selfish desires. He was no Baeron! 

His determination took a hefty blow when she spoke up again, her tone far sadder this time: "Then I do not mean to you what I thought I did."

He could not help himself turning around at that remark. To his utter demise, she stood looking up at him, her shoulders sagging and an expression of open sorrow on her face. "You mean more to me than anyone ever has," he whispered, both in alarm and in awe, and it was true down to the last word. 

Irulan stared back at him, her lips slowly parting with the unexpected statement. He looked back, not blinking as time stretched between them. It was a mighty declaration. Far mightier than she would expect. Than she had dared to expect from anyone, but certainly least of all, from Legolas. She knew of course that she meant a lot to him, for no elf would take someone as his lover for less than deep affection. And just when she was thinking how one could come to terms with a fact like that, he had once again taken another step and unveiled another shocking truth. Even after a rather long interval, Irulan failed to come up with a reply and feeling very much as if the ground had been pulled from underneath her feet, nervously entwined her hands in front of her and cast her gaze down. 

Legolas took a deep breath and once again closed the distance between them. His palm rested on her cheek and he remained like that for a while before he spoke: "You mean the world to me, Irulan. And more." A quick debate as to whether he should just go ahead and reveal all the truth about this sentiments erupted in him. But at this point, she probably had a vague idea what he meant and there was no need to press on with the statement. "And that is why we can not do this," he concluded gently. 

He did not expect her to look up, but she did and there was a strange fire in her eyes. He felt almost hypnotized by it, just like he had at the Coliseum when she had caught him like this to his own surprise. "If our roles were reversed, Legolas," she said, her voice deep and strangely tired, "would you not ask it of me?" She pursed her lips momentarily as the elf waited with rapt attention. "Would you not ask me to tear away all the walls between us?"

Once again she was speaking the open, plain and unquestionable truth. If he felt weak now, it was nothing compared to what he felt when her hand found his and removing it from her cheek, she turned it to kiss his palm. Who would have thought that a simple kiss could turn an elf of his age into a mere child and swat off all his long years as if swatting off a fly? He did not know if his own kisses made Irulan feel the way he felt at the moment, but if they did, she was far stronger than him. Because she managed to resist, but there was no way on earth HE could resist this! 

"It is good," he managed to whisper a very long moment later, still unable to tear away his gaze from hers, "that our roles are not reversed."

She said nothing in return and let him have the last word. It was always smart to leave the last word to the man. To soften them up with that gesture. It made it far easier to attain the desired, in the long run. She exhaled with perfect defeat and slowly embraced his neck. "If you say so," she mumbled with a tinge of disappointment. 

Legolas blinked in surprise and a smile of relief washed over his features while his hands glided down to embrace her waist and his forehead rested on hers. The Valar had certainly pitied his state and made her give in. For if she had insisted, he would have found it impossible to decline her wish any further. The worst part was, now that she had stepped back, the gleeful desire to fulfill her demand had increased even further! 'The fair gender!' he thought, 'No man was built to overpower them!' Resisting the impulse, he gave her a light kiss on the lips and Irulan kissed him back, taking his breath away with that simple action alone. 

He embraced her stronger, kissing her cheek and her neck as Irulan closed her eyes and gave in to the feeling. "Shall we go now?" he whispered into her ear finally. Irulan sighed and nodded slightly, pulling herself back. They walked out of the room and down the stairs. The old German couple waved them goodbye and Irulan looked back at the pension as they drove off, thinking that she would always remember it to be the place she had said 'yes' to Legolas. 

And to everything that followed.

*** 


	15. Confessions of an Elf Reborn

If such a thing was possible, their time after that was even more amazing. Not even in her most ardent affairs had Irulan felt this wanted and cherished. 'I should have dated an elf much earlier!' she thought, amazed by their ways. But then...she had never thought that any elf would be interested in her, in the first place. 

First of all, they were creatures of deep passion and sensuality. If Legolas was not holding her hand, he was embracing her. If not embracing her, most probably kissing her. And if neither, at least touching her in any manner. Though it was not easy to get used to this -especially in a matter of days- Irulan did her best to let go and be careless. She had had lovers before and true, their touch did not have the effect that his did, but still she was far from inexperienced in these matters. 

Secondly, they were very sentimental and affectionate. Legolas refused to continue his tellings unless she did the same and strange as it might sound, to talk about herself was more difficult for Irulan than to let him touch or kiss her. So she began reluctantly and the first summary of her life was about 250 words. When the elf gave her a dry and scolding look, she tried to add more details to it. Which made it only about three times that long. Legolas changed gear and shook his head with disbelief and she added more details, doubling the length of it once more. 

At that point she was certain that she had nothing left to tell about herself and Legolas only sighed in frustration when she said so. "Listen...I have not lived the life that you have!" she protested defensively. He gave her another pointed look. "This has nothing to do with your life," he replied finally. "It has to do with you. And your view of yourself."

"I have nothing interesting to tell, I swear!"

"I'll be the judge of that, Irulan," he said, half amused and half determined. "Now...let's see..."

Thus began the rather detailed and painfully long (at least, in her standards) tale of a girl called Irulan. She had told him about her current life before, when they had been driving to have lunch in England. But that had been a different Legolas and a different Irulan and their interaction had been dry and cold compared to this. Now the elf wanted to know everything! Not only the actual happenings, but more so how she had felt at that moment, or what her first thought was, and why she chose to deal with it the way she had and whether she regretted it or not and countless other things. He was too cunning for her and every time Irulan tried to skip a somewhat disturbing or intimate part, Legolas sensed it immediately and delved into it further. 

Touching was not bad. Speaking was a little worse. But the compliments! Now those were simply unbearable! For with everything she had to say, Legolas had a compliment for her in return and if there was anything that Irulan found disturbing, it was being flattered and pampered. She argued with him a few times, saying that her action in this or that particular instance did not necessarily mean strength or modesty, but Legolas was always ready to pull out some other great attribute to that reaction and Irulan learned soon enough that it was better for her to accept it and let go.

Legolas, on the other hand, had not felt this happy and careless in ages. He was an elf again! The fortress was taken. The battlements destroyed. The memory of war and strife stilled. Peace was here and the Heavens knew that he was more than ready for it! The presence of another soul felt immensely good. It was relieving and vitalizing at the same time. And the fact that this other was Irulan, was simply a feast to his senses. 

He was in love! And all that everybody spoke of love was an understatement. This day, Legolas was king to Earth and emperor to the universe. Many millennia had he strolled in search for this and long ago given up on it. Now it was sitting right beside him and it was the key to everything. Why Irulan? Who knew? Did it really matter? It mattered that she was here and that she had claimed his Fortress of Solitude and demolished his former life into ruins. Now the sky was the limit!

Often he felt the need to confirm her presence, to make sure that the whole experience was not some strange spell. In those moments he found her hand and pulled it up for a kiss and it his spirit soared with the realization that it was indeed real. And that it was flawless. Perfect. Complete. His joy reached such degrees, that the struggle to keep his senses down became a rather difficult one. And he had to admit that they slipped out of his control at times, anyway. Irulan was very sensitive to it and immediately turned to glance at him, unsure of her perception, but very accurate in it. He smiled at her with pure love and she broke into a smile soon afterwards, sighing with contentment at the sentiments that filled the small vehicle. 

It was a somewhat gloomy day and they drove through heavy rain and fog. Any other time Irulan would have thought it dark, but today it seemed only...mysterious and romantic. She realized that the car drive had been a good choice. True, it had taken from their time in Paris, but her excitement had not vanished with that loss at all. Her excitement, it seems, was not due to see a foreign location or to engage in something new. It was due to be with Legolas. And it mattered little what they were doing, as long as they were together. 

"Legolas," she said after a comfortable silence and he turned to glance at her, "what do you think will be the outcome for Cate and Jonathan?"

They were driving through heavy fog and although he had slowed down a bit, his speed was still great for this kind of weather. But Irulan felt comfortable with his skills and did not mind it at all. He did not answer immediately. "I do not know, Irulan," he said slowly, his gaze focused on the road. "But I hope that it will bring them happiness."

She remained silent for a moment, watching his profile. "You will vote against them." It was not a bitter comment. Neither was it a question. More a matter-of-fact observation. 

Again he hesitated. "Tell me not to, and I won't," was his final reply. 

Irulan, who had been sitting half Indian-style and sideways, facing him, almost tumbled out of her seat. She stared at him for a long time and though Legolas felt her do so, he did not meet her gaze for a long moment. "What do you mean?" she said, incredulously. 

He sighed and clenched his jaw. "Tell me that you want me to vote in favor. Tell me that it is right to do so and the why. And I will do as you wish, Irulan."

She could not believe her ears! THE Legolas, the elf who was known to oppose such acts fiercely, actually gave her -HER, Irulan- the choice! But...strange as it was, now that he did so, she suddenly wasn't sure if she wanted a power of such magnitude. She shifted with discomfort. "I don't think that would be right, Legolas," was her reluctant reply. "You should vote what you believe in."

The elf smiled in satisfaction. She was simply magnificent in every way! And not like most humans at all. "Tell me what YOU believe, then," he said gently and held her hand once more. 

"Well," she sighed and threw her hair over her shoulder, gazing out the windshield. "I have known them for years. And they really love each other. I mean...it is so OBVIOUS, Legolas!" He smiled deftly, but remained silent. "And it's not an infatuation, because it has not changed in so long now. And I know...I know that this...act can be dangerous for mortals. But..." She sighed again and a moment later surprised him with an outburst: "Ah to Hell with it all! Love justifies everything. They are in love and what they have is worth all that can be done in the name of it!"

He gave her a long, amazed look and Irulan stared back first with determination, then slight unease and finally a bit of embarrassment. "Is that so?" Legolas grinned a long time later, observing the color on her cheeks. 

"Yes! I mean...I think...yes, I think so."

"Love justifies everything, Irulan?" he said suggestively. 

She moaned and shifted to sit properly on the seat as he laughed with delight. "In this case, yes."

"Ah," he said slyly, "in THIS case! Is there a case when love is not enough?"

She remained silent, looking out her window. "I don't know," she murmured a long moment later. "I can not imagine what that would be."

Legolas, overly happy with her statement, put on his blank face once more. "How about her becoming immortal? The danger and burden of it? Do you think it wise?"

"Well I would hardly know," she snorted, "I am nowhere near wise."

"Yes you are," was the soft intervention but Irulan -afraid of another string of compliments- hastily forestalled it: 

"But it is certainly brave. I mean...I could never..." She stopped then, suddenly very uneasy about this whole conversation. "It is brave," she finished with a tense tone. 

Legolas glanced at her and ignored the unessential parts, getting down to the core of the matter immediately: "You would never what? Consider it?" 

"No," was her curt reply and she brought out the map, pretending to inspect it. "How far to our next stop?"

"Why not?" 

"I just wouldn't," she said dismissively, not glancing up and praying to the powers above that he would leave it be. "Are we going to pass by..."

"Yes, you already said so," he intervened smoothly. "But I asked the reason." Irulan glared at him with a very threatening expression and he looked back with the damnable blankness before his lips curled into a smile. "You look absolutely stunning when you are angry," he whispered and placed a kiss on her hand before she managed to retrieve it and return to her map. "Why does this subject make you so uneasy?"

"It does not. I answered your question and I see no point in..."

"You did not. Tell me," he said gently, almost as if speaking to a little child. "Tell me why you would not consider it, Irulan."

She took a deep breath, her frustration obvious. "I don't know!" she said finally. "I just...I don't want to be immortal."

"How can you NOT want something that you have never been? You do not know what it holds, do you?"

She looked at him for a moment or two, but her eyes were glazed and held no expression. "It sounds lonely," she said then, her voice almost inaudible. She turned away to look out her own window into the misty grassland. "And too long," she added with a sigh. 

Another silence came between them as Legolas pursed his lips and his grip on the wheel grew unconsciously. "Indeed," came his late reply. "It is too long." And just when Irulan felt strangely ashamed and uncomfortable, as if she had reminded him of some defect or his weakness, he spoke again: "And yet you will vote in favor."

She turned then and their eyes locked for a short moment. "I told you," she said, shrugging deftly. "Cate is very brave. I guess I am not."

"Perhaps," he said slowly, "Cate is in love. And you...are not."

The woman had nothing to say to that. She blinked in surprise as simultaneously many sentiments woke in her: surprise by the unexpected statement. A strange indecision about what her answer should be. There was the distant pain she thought she sensed from Legolas. And most of all, the undeniable protest that rose in her. The need to object. To say that she WAS. Her eyes widened with the realization of the latter and immediately their conversation in the forest yesterday came back to her. Especially the part she had almost said that she had a bond of love with him. 

'Can it be true?' Irulan thought in confusion, her brows furrowed. 'Do I love Legolas?' It might seem strange for someone of her age and experience to arrive at this question so late. But everything had rushed ahead so swiftly and Irulan had barely found the time to analyze her feelings. The sudden kidnapping to Rome, then the tumultuous night at the restaurant, the David issue next morning in Paris, and right after that the Sharing with Baeron, followed by her agreement to an affair between herself and Legolas merely a day later. It was more than swift. MAD was a better word for it! Chaotic! Catastrophic! And now the big L word was knocking on her door and she felt afraid to open it. 

Legolas observed her silent struggle and when he saw her swallow hard and clench her fingers into fists, he immediately regretted his words. It had been sole curiosity on his behalf that had pushed him to such a statement, not a sly attempt to glance into her heart. 

He opened his mouth to apologize and close the subject for good, when Irulan spoke with a husky voice and stilled him: "I...I don't think it's...that easy," she choked out and swallowed before she continued with more haste: "Imagine choosing mortality for another, Legolas!" Their eyes connected again. "I mean...imagine that! Would you-"

"Yes I would," he said simply. They remained locked to each other until he had to divert his gaze to follow the road. And even after that it took Irulan a long minute to recover from that sudden intervention. "For you, I would," he added a moment later, this time not looking back at her. 

"Yes well," she stammered, her voice very shaky at this point, "well...that proves my point. You are very brave, Legolas."

And why on earth did she feel like she had said something very unbefitting and wrong? She frowned slightly, momentarily carried away by that unexpected sentiment, when he spoke again. "No, Irulan," the elf said gently, his blue eyes intense and glimmering like some alien metal, "The reason has nothing to do with braveness."

He really did not need to say the rest; his meaning was obvious to every idiotic and imbecile creature on this planet. Including Irulan. She cast down her eyes and played with her fingers for a while. Legolas pursed his lips and turned to look ahead, again. It was bold, yes, and he had not felt this anxious in an incredibly long time, but...why hide it? Why not cherish it and enjoy it?

"Please pull over for a minute," she said suddenly. All right...perhaps he should have hidden it, after all! 

The elf slowed down the car and pulled over. "Are you well?" he said, at this point rather worried. "Is something the matter?"

"No," she said curtly and avoided looking at him, playing with her fingers. 

He stopped and almost immediately Irulan opened the door and stepped out. Without a thought, he followed. 

The fog was heavy here and all she could make out was patches of grass and spidery, sporadic trees. It was incredibly humid, as if they were breathing water itself and the silence was eerie. The elf appeared right beside her without a sound, but remained a step away, joining her inspection of the area. Finally Irulan took a step towards the meadow and found him striding with her. She gave him a meaningful look and only received the blank gaze in return. "I will not leave you alone. You might hurt yourself. There might be animal traps here. Or barbwire."

She sighed in frustration but did not oppose, knowing that he was probably right. AGAIN! She walked on, and Legolas walked with her, remaining close but silent. After fifteen minutes she was certain that she had taken too many turns and probably lost her way for good. But stubbornly resisting the urge to consult him, she walked some more. The silence remained unbroken and was heavy on her senses. "I don't understand what is happening," she said finally, trying not to step into a muddy pool. "And I don't know where this is going. What should I expect, Legolas?" With that, she stopped and looked up at him. 

The elf moved closer until he stood right beside her. His hair was slightly wavy because of the humidity and his blue eyes seemed solemn and troubled. Yet his stance spoke of determination and strength. "I can not answer," he said slowly, his eyes taking in her features, "for I do not know the answer. But hope is in my power and I hope with all my heart, Irulan."

"Hope is a mighty force," she smiled bitterly, Baeron's words echoing in her mind. Her hand went into the pocket of her pants and unconsciously touched the bulge of the napkin in there. 

"I do not know how to describe it," he cut in, somewhat eager and at the same time, timid. "It is new to me." She sighed and looked away and Legolas shortly touched her chin to revert her gaze back to him. "But if any word could describe my sentiments for you, it would be 'need'. Never in my life have I needed anything as much as I need you," he finished with a whisper, drawing closer still. "Do not ask me to hold back. I don't think I can."

"But," she said with discomfort and began walking again as the elf resumed his close pursuit. "How will this work out? I mean...where will I live...and what will I do?"

"Not 'you', Irulan…" he said with an amused smile when she turned to look at him once more, "...'we'."

She nodded slowly in consent and he took a deep breath, looking around. "I would tell you this or that scenario...but...does it really matter?" His fingers glided over her cheek and her lips. "What matters is that we will be together."

She looked up at him, her brown eyes carrying fear and excitement. "Irulan," he groaned, his hand gliding down to settle on her shoulder as he tilted forward to minimize the distance between them. "My words still hold true. I offer anything. And everything. You can set the route. You can choose the road. And I will do anything in my power to make sure that there will be no obstacles and no limits for us."

"But what if...if I make the wrong decision? What if I don't know the right one? What if something happens...Something wrong?"

"Nothing wrong can happen when you are ready for all options," he whispered.

"If I am not ready?"

"I can wait," was his unhesitant reply, his eyes not even blinking. That was not entirely true, but since it did not entail how long the wait would be, in a way it WAS true. 

"And if I am not willing, Legolas?"

"I can persuade you."

"If...I don't know...if..."

"Irulan," he cut in smoothly, "what are you so afraid of?"

She swallowed softly and looked around for a moment or two. "I...this...uncertainty." She waved her arm to include the blanket of mist that was swirling around them. "We can get lost in this!" she whispered with urgency when their gazes locked once more.

"Not when we are free to go anywhere and everywhere." He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Trust me, Irulan. Trust me, and your trust will be my guide. As I shall be yours." 

She laughed despite herself. "You speak like an elf, Legolas!" she chuckled, shaking her head. "For the first time!"

The Prince smiled, feeling sudden and great relief at her laughter. "I am becoming one, again," was his sigh of an answer as his fingers laced with hers. "All your fears are groundless," he said with a more solemn voice. "I shall prove it to you." With another beguiling smile he pulled her along and she walked with him. The haze seemed heavier than before and every direction seemed the right one. If she was alone, she would have been lost for certain. But Legolas was calm. He even turned around to smile at her a few times in a reassuring manner. His step was firm and his warm grip on her hand, soothing. "Maybe we will emerge somewhere else?" she said, mainly to lift up the dread this heavy mist was casting on her soul. "In Middle Earth?"

Legolas laughed and once again, the sound soothed her nerves immensely. "Ah...that would indeed be interesting!"

"Would you like that?" she said, grinning.

"As I have said," he commented, giving her a glance, "it does not matter where we go as long as we are together. I would follow you anywhere and to any time."

A momentary silence passed between them as she felt his words bringing a searing warmth to her heart. "*I* would like it, no doubt," she mumbled finally. 

"To the city of Minas Tirith I would take you then," he said slowly and she looked up at his peculiar tone of voice. A strange aura was emanating from him and she kept her silence, her curiosity strong. "The Tower of Ecthelion stands like a torch to lighten up the darkest night, there. There is a rocky hill close the city and when you look at it from there, it seems almost like no man-made structure, but a sprout of nature!" Surprised that he spoke in the present tense and by the husky tone of his voice, she bit her lip and remained an ardent listener. There was a short silence, then the elf continued: "And the misty hills of Mirkwood! Ah...how I wish you could see those, Irulan!" The sensations of both excitement and deep longing washed over her. Though the feelings were intense, their emanation was gentle and subtle and Irulan inhaled softly to make it easier on herself. Legolas, though, seemed unaware of his forceful emotions and continued his silent, slow walk on the mossy earth. "Often I strode through its green, lush shadows. Thinking of time. Of life. Of you." With that, he turned his gaze to her again, his pace not slowing and there was a strange glaze in his eyes. 

"Me?" she managed to whisper.

"Of you, yes," he said in return as the mist swirled around his head and parted before him like a gentle curtain. "Of the one who would share it all with me." She just stared back in bafflement, but the elf was not de-motivated by that. He made a step to the right and continued his stroll as Irulan's eyes perceived momentarily the shape of a tree that they would have crashed into, if they had not chosen another path. 

"And the troubled, murky waters of the Rhun...from where my kind has left, never to return. You should see that, too." She gently squeezed his hand and felt his grasp enhancing too, though he did not turn to look back. "Perhaps," he continued, his head turning to take in the mist around him, "this mist will lift and we will find ourselves at the edge of the Golden Wood. Ah...now THAT you MUST see!" he said with a grin and Irulan could not help a similar grin appearing on her own features. 

"Haldir told me a little of the Lady of Light," she said cautiously, not wishing to disrupt his trance. 

Legolas merely chuckled in return. "She was more majestic than the woods she resided in, if such a thing is possible," he mused. 

"Is it true that Gimli fell in love with her?"

The elf groaned deep in his throat. But to her surprise, it held a certain amusement to it. "It is!" he said with exasperation. "To my demise, I might add." 

"I find that fascinating!" 

"You have not listened to it for YEARS," he grumbled, but it was only half-hearted. They both laughed at that for a moment. "Is it not strange," he said suddenly, not diverting his eyes from hers, "that so many around me found great affection and love with someone from another kind?" She blinked and turned away again, unsure of what to say. "Prophetic, I would say," he whispered. 

Irulan cast down her gaze, concentrating on her feet and the earth underneath them. She felt his penetrating gaze on her, but refused to meet it. For a short while, it was only her breathing that was audible. Then suddenly she felt the hard asphalt underneath her soles and halted, the elf halting with her. An inspection of the surrounding revealed nothing – they were on the road, but she could not see the Mercedes or any sign of it. "Have I led you out of the mist, as I said I would?" was his partly amused, partly intimidating whisper. 

"You have," she whispered in reply and he smiled, walking on and pulling her alongside. 

"Perhaps I have led you astray?" he said then, slyly. "Perhaps I have brought you somewhere where none can find us? A deserted part of the forest?"

Irulan glanced at him before she chuckled and shrugged. "It does not matter, really. I would go anywhere with you."

That only served to intensify his gaze and add to his strange silence. Irulan, now feeling very exposed under his fiery eyes, opened her mouth to ask how far they were from the vehicle, but only a fraction of a time later found herself plastered against it, his mouth clamped over hers, his body gently pushing against hers. It happened so fast, her brain barely registered it and a sound of surprise erupted in her throat, turning into a distant moan. He pushed in further, and there was something strangely exciting about the hard, cold exterior of the car behind her and his soft warmth in front of her. This time his tongue found its way in with perplexing ease of expertise and at that point Irulan was beyond objection anyway. Her fingers found his nape, diving into the soft hair and that seemed to excite Legolas further as he she felt herself very slightly pulled towards him, then both of them pushed ahead again. It was not a painful crush but caused a dull pang of a sound and he broke the kiss, pulling only an inch or two away. 

"Forgive me," he breathed as Irulan tried to regain her breath, both shocked and immensely excited. "I did not kiss you for too long now." His lips lowered, this time slower and he captured her lower lip, gently sucking on it. "It was becoming...unbearable," he whispered, delivering a soft bite before he kissed his way to her neck. 

Again she felt herself slightly lifted and tilted onto the car while a distant part of her brain felt amazed by his strength. She managed to touch her toes to the ground and her hands glided further up his scalp, into his unbelievably soft hair. Her head was spinning and her entire body shrunk down to that particular spot below his lips that burned with an enticing fire. Only when he had kissed every part of her skin that could be reached through the jacket –which was thankfully not much- did she feel herself being lowered down the inch that she had been raised, and Legolas leaned into her again. A far gentler kiss landed on her lips. When it ended and Irulan finally looked up to his eyes, the fire there made her tremble and swallow softly. 

"I love you," he said, his left hand rising up to place a thumb beneath her jawline and the rest of the fingers on her temple, tilting her face as if trying to get a better look at it. "You must know that already, but I want you to hear it. I love you." She opened and closed her mouth, trying to say something in return...but it seemed impossible. He smiled then and moved up his thumb to brush over her lower lip, his eyes following it. "No worries, Irulan. In time, you shall love me, too." He kissed her forehead, then her cheek. "In your own way. As much as you please. I do not expect anything in return for my affection. Anything you grant me, will be a blessing. In this, I promise, I will not ask for more."

"Legolas," she breathed, closing her eyes to still the spinning of her head, "if you continue...this...I swear you will end it before it begins!" 

He sighed and folded her in his embrace as Irulan rested her head on his shoulder. 

"I know," he growled, caressing her back, "I know. I try, believe me."

"Legolas?"

"Yes, my love?"

A momentary hesitation at the usage of that phrase. Then: "Try harder."

***

By the time they arrived in Vienna it was the later hours of the afternoon. Legolas drove through the streets that seemed to be engulfed in the excitement of the upcoming Ball. Vienna was not as mysteriously historical as Rome or fancy and intricate as Paris. It was a more romantic, gentle and subtle place. The city of Mozart. The city of music and waltz. 

They arrived in another hotel yet and it was simple but elegant compared to the former ones. Once again, they were greeted by the management in the most elaborate fashion and the manager of the staff, who was a rather beautiful woman, seemed overly excited to have Legolas there. Though her excitement faltered a little with the sight of Irulan by his side. "Mr. Greenleaf!" she said heartily, smiling with twinkles in her eyes, "you look better every time I see you!"

"Ah...nothing compared to you, Elisa," he said with a fabulous smile. "Your hair suits you perfect."

She blushed a little, combing her fingers through her long auburn locks. "You like it?"

Legolas leaned in on the counter, his blue eyes making the woman swallow in obvious excitement. "Absolutely. Never change it."

She failed to reply for a moment or two and by the looks of it, even breathe. Irulan watched her childish infatuation in amusement. Elisa was not young. Neither was she shy or naive. But that meant little - for elves had that effect on anyone, no matter what gender, age or background. Even preference in type meant nothing when one faced an elf – one was almost FORCED to fall for them, no matter what. "After your call two days ago from Paris, I have prepared your usual room," she said finally, her voice shaking a little. It was an almost impossible feat to find a room on such short notice during this kind of event in Vienna, but Elisa would have probably killed the customer who had the room rather than disappoint Legolas. He smiled with satisfaction and signed the forms she produced. Elisa's eyes darted to Irulan, then, and her expression spoke of open confusion as to what this kind of woman was doing in the company of a man like Lord Greenleaf. "Would you need another room as well?" she dared to ask. It was not polite for a hotel manager but understandable for an infatuated FEMALE hotel manager. 

"No," he said curtly and having finished the signing, drew Irulan by the waist to embrace her. "One room is all we need."

Elisa's face fell and she said nothing in return. "Allow me to take you to your room, then," was the late statement.

"No need, Elisa. I can find it easily enough." With that he smiled one last time, then walked to the elevator with Irulan in his embrace. 

"When will we meet Baeron?" she said as they were riding up. She felt the suppressed tenseness that flickered shortly before Legolas effectively suppressed it. 

"He should arrive any time."

"I wonder what costumes he picked!" Legolas chose not to answer and gazed ahead as the elevator finally pulled to the top floor. They stepped out and walked through the corridor that had walls lined with crimson velvet. "He would not...not pick Joan of Arc, would he?" she said suddenly, almost with a whisper. 

"Of course not. Even Baeron is not that foolish!" was his rather meaningful remark. 

She sighed in relief as they walked into the room. "No, he would not do that. He is a nice man." She did not hear his frustrated exhale and continued to walk into the room. "I hope that he does not think me angry."

He crossed his arms and watched her. "You should be."

"Oh no!" laughed Irulan, waving her arm dismissively and walking up to the desk that held the basket filled with chocolate and a champagne bottle, inspecting said items. "I know he meant good. I could never be angry at-"

She halted when his arms snaked around her waist and Legolas pressed her to his chest. A fiery kiss was planted on her neck. "If you continue to talk about Baeron," he whispered into her hear and kissed the lobe of it, causing a terrible havoc in her body, "I will begin to get jealous." She remained completely still for a moment or two, then found no other reply than nodding and grasping his arms that pulled her even closer. He kissed her lobe again, then placed a trail of soft kisses down her cheek and her neckline. Irulan remained hesitant and torn as to how to react. Yes, there was no denying it: She wanted Legolas. She wanted to push aside all curtains and break all walls and be with him in the most intimate fashion a person could be with another. And her desire for him exceeded any want she had felt for a man before. If Legolas had been an ordinary man and not the famous elf that he was, no doubt, Irulan would have given no second thought about taking the next step. 

However...still she hesitated when it came to further intimacy. Because he was immortal. Because he was Legolas the elf. Because he was living in a completely different style and fashion than herself. Because a relationship with Legolas meant something far different than an affair with an ordinary man. 

Legolas, on the other hand, held no such hesitations. He was not a man to engage in physical affairs with any woman or leisurely. All elves were very cautious in such choices, because unlike many humans, a union on that level meant much to them and they considered it extremely precious and private. It was a strong bond and none that they would form with anyone. However no elf would hesitate to form it with someone they deemed worthy of it. It was an expression of love, a natural intimacy that comes with affection and there was nothing shameful or sinful about it. On the contrary - it was the essence of nature and beautiful for body and spirit alike. 

He had formed that bond with many women before - both mortal and immortal. And passion and want had been there, as well as love. But never had he been IN love and so utterly drawn to its physical expression as much as he was with Irulan. Never had he felt the desire he was feeling for Irulan. The desire to touch and taste her skin, to hear her pleasure and to share ecstasy with her in its purest manner. He might be an elf, but no creature was designed to resist a pull of such strength and Legolas felt his control slipping further with every moment. It was too hasty for the courting of an elf and certainly too much to ask from a mortal at this point. But nature cared nothing about such details. Nature only saw a man and a woman and the unbreakable bond of love that chained one to the other. That was enough reason for It to throw away all ridiculous "but"s, "if"s, "no"s and "maybe"s and just go ahead and share love in every shape and form. 

Once again it was the phone that saved Irulan, and once again, she did not know whether to feel happy or sad about it. The fire scorching her skin, the flame that seemed to erupt from his fingers was simply incredible and she let out a shaky breath when, at the persistent ringing of it, the elf released her with a sigh of regret to walk over to the phone. Irulan had to swallow hard and allow herself a few moments before she could turn around and lean on the desk behind her so that she would not glide to sit on the floor. 

Legolas, too, had a difficult time returning to the present. And had it not been Haldir's voice on the other end after the receptionist connected the call, it would have taken him probably longer to do so.

"Hello, my friend," was the cool and somewhat amused greeting and it woke him up like a splash of cold water on the face. 

"Hello Haldir," he said, instantly amazed that it came out so blank. Especially since his heart was beating this ferociously. 

"How is everything?"

"Fine, thank you," he said, a little tense. Haldir meant England. England meant the Council. The Council meant the wager. Just when he was having a fabulous time, cursed be it all!

"What of your test?" Haldir said suddenly and the hair on his nape rose. Now that his sentiments for her had changed so drastically, the uncovering of that deed was more than just frightening. Far more. His mind worked with full speed to find something that would not sound strange to Irulan whose eyes he felt on his back. 

"I was mistaken," was the final and cool reply. He could have sworn that he felt Haldir grinning in response to that. A silent understanding passed between them as he felt the other elf growing bolder, now knowing that Irulan must be somewhere nearby for the Prince to speak in this manner. 

"So you were," Haldir mused a moment later. "I thought as much when -after Rome and Paris- your staff informed me yesterday that you were to be found at this number in Vienna." Legolas chose silence and turned to look at Irulan who appeared beside him at that moment. "Life is very surprising, don't you think, Legolas? You can trust it for centuries but just when you think you have figured it out, it hits you right in the heart." Again Legolas said nothing as Irulan watched him with open curiosity and he stared back at her, Haldir's words echoing in his mind. A silence set in and Haldir was the one to break it: "Will you stay long?"

"We are here to attend the Masquerade," he replied, evading a clear-cut answer. 

"Has something happened?" Irulan said softly at that moment.

"Ah," said Haldir with amusement and Legolas let the blankness sink on his features to avoid being affected by his tone. "The WORLD has happened, dear Irulan!" She, of course could not hear him but Haldir heard her just fine with his elven perception.

"No," was Legolas' flat answer. "He only called to see how we are doing." 

The other elf chuckled a pleased "Indeed!"

"Do we need to return early?" she prodded on, suspicious of this sudden call. 

Legolas did not wait for Haldir's reply. "No. We can stay." It was a message to the other man as well, and Haldir understood immediately:

"No worries, my friend. We are still awaiting the remainder of the members. But even if they were all here..." with that, his voice gained that damnable amusement again, "...no meeting in this world is more important than your odyssey to relocate your heart, Legolas."

That was it! He barely kept himself from banging the phone in its cradle. Not only was that too furious an expression for his notorious calmness, but it would be highly suspicious in the presence of Irulan. Instead he uttered a calm "Thank you. Goodbye," and prepared to end the conversation. 

"Can I speak with him?" Irulan squeaked hastily and his hand froze. A forced smile crawled up to his face before he nodded and handed the receiver to her. "Haldir? How are you?" she said with deft joy. Legolas, amused by her enthusiastic reaction to him and knowing that these two had managed to form a friendship long before he had succeeded in dragging Irulan out of England, just crossed his arms on his chest and remained observant. 

"Far better now that I heard from you two," he heard Haldir replying.

A pinkish hue hit her cheeks and the Prince could not help smiling at it. "Yes...Legolas is taking me to these amazing places, Haldir! I was hoping that we could stay for the Masquerade at least."

"Oh by all means! Stay!" laughed Haldir heartily. 

"But if Legolas needs to return..."

"He needs to do exactly what he is doing at the moment, dear Irulan," Haldir said and she looked up to the blank expression of the elf before her. "I am glad that you are seeing new places and having such a fabulous time."

"I have met Baeron!" she said then suddenly, to the utter irritation of Legolas. A silence followed and even Irulan sensed the tenseness and surprise of the man on the other end. 

"Oh," he said softly, "is that so?"

"Yes," was her slightly uneasy reply as she glanced up at Legolas but found nothing to read in his expression. "He sends his greetings to you."

Haldir did not reply right away. "My greetings to him as well," was the final statement. "May I speak to Legolas, please?" he added kindly. 

Irulan said her good-bye and gave the phone to the other elf. Then, not wishing to be rude or nosy, strode into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. 

"Is everything all right, Legolas?" Haldir said cautiously once he heard the phone settling on the man's ear. 

"Of course," came the curt reply. 

Haldir hesitated again. "The past has a nasty habit of repetition," he sighed finally. 

"/There is no repetition here/," Legolas said, switching to Elvish although he knew that Irulan could not hear him. "/We are too old to make the same mistakes/."

"Oh no," said Haldir coldly, "never too old for that, Legolas! You will keep him away from Irulan," he added, almost like a threat.

"/No other man will touch King-daughter again/," Legolas growled, cautious not to use her name. 

A long silence issued and he did not aid Haldir in overcoming his shock. "This...is most...unexpected," the other elf stammered finally, then allowed another silence. "Have you told her of your sentiments?"

Legolas smiled and glanced at the closed door again. The faint hum of water reached his sensitive ears. She must have been washing her face. "/I have/." His smile turned into a grin. "/She has granted me with her acceptance of further intimacy/."

"You are a lucky man, Legolas," Haldir said slowly and with blunt honesty. 

"I am," he said finally in English, sighing once more. "I have found my heart's true match."

He heard the man take a soft, deep breath. "Would you want me to take your place in the Council? You can remain longer, then."

"No." He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Irulan wants to attend and vote. So do I. We will come in for that."

"Good, my friend. I am overjoyed by this news. Until we meet again."

Legolas had barely placed the receiver in its place when the bedroom door opened and Irulan's head appeared. When she saw that he was not on the phone anymore, she walked towards him, absent-mindedly drying her hands with the towel. "Is everything all right?"

"Of course," he said softly, waiting for her to arrive by his side. 

"Do we still have time for that lunch you promised?" she grinned. 

"Yes, we do," he whispered and slowly took the towel from her hands, dropping it without looking away. A feral smile appeared on his lips as he stepped closer, touching the wet strands that were framing her face. Irulan closed her eyes and did not move as his lips began another one of those devastating ministrations on her face, finding every drop of water and tracing it with his lips and removing it with a kiss. She sighed and the sound drowned in his mouth when he finally found her lips and began a tender exploration of her mouth. She slightly tilted her head and leaned in further while the elf snaked his arms around her neck and with a motion that resembled crossing them on his chest, pulled her to himself, deepening the kiss. 

This was getting unbearable! With all her will-power, Irulan had no way of resisting this seduction. Not that she really wanted to, but if she DID want, she was absolutely certain that she couldn't. The courting was merciless on the heart. But this…this was downright cruel to the body. Once again the sizzling began in her belly and slowly fanned out through her entire body as passion took over and she grew bolder, tilting her head a little further. Something suspiciously similar to a groan erupted from Legolas as Irulan tasted the spectacular sweetness that rolled off his tongue and made her long for more. 

Her stomach thought otherwise. It protested at their carelessness and she barely managed to frown with disappointment and grasp the front of his jacket before Legolas tentatively and reluctantly broke off. She could not control herself as her lips followed his to return to that Heavenly bliss but he was too tall for that and only chuckled in reply as he placed his forehead on hers. Irulan sighed, accepting defeat. She allowed his warm breath on her face to continue for a little while longer before her eyelids fluttered open and she met the fabulous blue looking down at her. 

Her stomach groaned again and his smile grew broad while his hands slid down her sides to grasp her waist firmly. "Ignore it," Irulan breathed, her annoyance at her human traits momentarily overpowering her desire. 

"I can not ignore your needs," he sighed with amusement. "Nor can I break a promise, my love."

At the use of that word, Irulan bit her lower lip and cast down her gaze. To hear something like that from Legolas was doing strange things to her. He pulled her closer by the waist, taking a deep breath. "We better go," he groaned, his eyes glued to hers. "Or else…" She swallowed at the strange fire in his eyes and waited for him to finish the sentence. But he chose not to, and instead let go of her waist to find her hand. Irulan dropped her head in disappointment. A part of her brain was echoing with the thought that she should be glad. That she was being overly bold and thoughtless. But she would not heed that part. Not anymore. She was an adult and the lover of a man. Now, REFRAINING from physical closeness was strange, not the other way around. She nodded and took a deep breath as her fingers entwined with his and Legolas swallowed softly, giving her one last look of regret before he began to walk towards the door, pulling Irulan with him. 

***


	16. The Place Where Poems Roam

Another week and another chapter. I am so happy that I have received reviews and mails from people who have actually picked out some details and the heavy symbolism that I have embedded and scattered throughout the story. No doubt that I intend to answer all questions and reveal all mysteries in time. But…..in DUE time. 

I am aware that fanfiction.net has the tendency to upload my chapters late. But it is beyond me. Sigh – so much for technology! 

Life is a Masquerade. Hail to all those who have the courage to shed all their garments and lift all their masks!

When they returned to the hotel, Baeron was sitting in the waiting area of the lobby. At his sight, Irulan felt a sudden and definite warmth seeping into her spirit. She grinned at his expensive dark grey cotton pants with a blaring crimson velvet jacket on top. As always, he was immaculate but highly…eccentric. She barely kept herself from running up to him and after reaching him laughed with open delight and excitement and embraced him. The elf chuckled with amusement before he held her by the shoulders, giving her an inspecting look. 

"You look even better, if such a thing is possible, Irulan," he said with deep amusement. 

"You elves!" she smirked, but blushed nevertheless. Baeron gave the other elf a respectful bow with the head and Legolas replied in a similar manner. 

"How was your trip?" he asked her then. 

"Fabulous! I am so lucky to be with Legolas," she said with childish sincerity. Legolas broke into the most beautiful smile at that and gently grasped her hand. 

Baeron remained still for a moment, his eyes wandering over the unaware couple and their entwined hands. "I see," he said slowly with a gentle tone. A swift expression of sadness crossed his face. But no one was looking and he stuffed it away before anyone did. Irulan and Legolas remained locked to each other, both in smiles, while the other elf observed them in silent amusement, crossing his arms on his chest. It was Irulan who broke the atmosphere: "Have you brought our costumes?" 

"Of course I have. They have already been delivered to your room."

Both elves watched with deep amusement how the supposedly mature woman from New York literally jumped twice with that news. "Let's GO!" she whispered in urgency. Baeron and Legolas looked at each other, then simultaneously broke into chuckles, shaking their heads. Legolas only waved his arm, motioning her to lead the way and Irulan eagerly walked up to the elevator. 

"How have you been?" asked the Scout gently once they were moving up. 

"I have been VERY good," Irulan grinned, receiving a penetrating look from the Prince. 

Legolas was too well mannered to step in to tell the truth or scold Baeron in front of the woman. Thankfully Baeron was an elf as well and instead of gaining satisfaction with her reply, turned to the Prince with questioning eyes. 

"I was present and no harm has come to her," he said finally. 

Baeron pursed his lips and cast his eyes down with open regret and shame. He nodded curtly and said nothing, but Irulan, who felt simply too close to him to allow him any sadness, hastily intervened: "Yes, Legolas was with me! Nothing happened!" She waved her hand dismissively, "I just had this stupid bad dream and…" When Legolas cleared his throat, she bit her lower lip and hesitated for a moment. "I was a little afraid, yes, but...." Another clearing of the throat. At this point Baeron could not suppress his grin any further and looked down at her with pure adoration. "All right, all right!" she protested, rolling her eyes, "I was more than a little afraid!" She threw Legolas a poisonous look and the man simply stared back blankly. "But…" she spat then with annoyance and turned a warmer face to the Scout once more, "…it is behind me now!"

"I am glad to hear that, King-daughter," was the soft response. 

They arrived at the room and Irulan raced to the bedroom where the package was placed. The two elves remained behind, crossing their arms on their chests in a similar fashion and looking at the bedroom door. "Was it very bad?" Baeron said finally, not turning around to face the other man. 

"She is strong," was the simple reply. 

His face fell at this evading answer. "I am glad that you were there," he sighed, this time daring a glance. 

Legolas nodded and locked eyes with him. His expression was unreadable. "And I will be so. Always," he said finally with a peculiar tone of voice. 

The other elf looked away and nodded absent-mindedly. Though for anyone else his disturbance at this news would be well hidden, to Legolas it was very evident but he said nothing to change it. 

"Oh my GOD!" came the shriek from the bedroom and it ended the tenseness. No Firstborn could have remained composed at the sight of a five year old Irulan running back to them with a long garment in her arms. Though they really did their best in trying. Thus, the simultaneous pursing of lips and the tangible effort to frown. "Legolas! Look!" She arrived by his side and waved the dress in front of his nose with excitement. 

"Ah...lovely!" the Prince said, allowing himself a small smile and holding up the dress to see what kind of costume it was. 

A surprise appeared on his face then and he blinked before he looked up to the gleeful Irulan. Then he turned to the other man who had once again regained his fabulous cool and was grinning back at him. When the Prince's expression ever so slightly blurred into mock scolding, Baeron just shrugged, grinning broader. "Irulan will look magnificent in this." He locked his lovely hazel eyes with hers. "Even more so than Anariel, who once wore it, ages upon ages ago."

"Oh my God!" was her statement before she flew up to him and gave him a sound kiss on the cheek. It was so unexpected that even Baeron -being the swift elf that he was- failed to see it coming and almost toppled over. He laughed heartily a moment later and embraced her in return.

Before Legolas' expression could turn into annoyance, she was embracing him. This time the kiss was on the lips and a moment after that the garment was torn from his hands and Irulan had disappeared into the bedroom. Legolas, his hand traveling to his lips, looked after her for a moment, then turned to an equally baffled Baeron who had his fingers on his cheek, staring back at him. Almost simultaneously both stiffened and to their own amazement, chose the same moment to clear their throats. Overly irritated by that, Legolas clasped his hands behind his back and glared at him. "I should have known that you would pick something like that," he said with a tone that held both chiding and yet amusement. 

The Scout shrugged and grinned again. "I thought, since she loves it so much, a taste of Middle Earth would be nice." 

Legolas could not keep off a smile from his lips as he gazed back to the bedroom door. Just at that moment Irulan yelled: "Legolas! Come and see your own costume! You won't believe this!" The Prince gently shook his head and appeared by the bedroom door, chuckling softly. "Look!" whispered Irulan in urgency, holding up the chest piece of an armor. 

He smiled wider as he walked up to take it from her. The rusty brown was exactly the tone he remembered it to be. His fingers slowly followed the intricate pattern of the image of the White Tree that stood out with a soft glow and, even after such an incredibly long time, refused to fade. "I wore one of these," he whispered, almost to himself, "a long time ago." 

Irulan came to stand before him and he looked down to meet her beautiful and deep brown gaze. "In the Pelennor Fields?" she whispered. 

"No," he sighed, returning his inspection to the item once again. "I always found such human armors immensely uncomfortable for combat. But...I wore one during the crowning of Estel." Once again their eyes met as she chose to remain completely still. "He was speechless to see me in it," he added with a slight grin. 

He did not expect it, but Irulan closed the distance between them and slowly embraced his shoulders. Legolas moved the heavy article to his right hand, dropping his arm and then embraced her back with his left, inhaling her hair. The sadness of old memories mingled with the joy of his current time and the mixture was a strange and utterly new one. But everything else faded away when Irulan delivered a soft and tender kiss on his lips. This feeling of being loved and cherished and wanted by her was unlike anything he had encountered in his entire life. It was like a potent drug that delivered incredible pleasure and of which he could never have enough. 

"You do not have to wear it if you don't want to," she said gently, touching his cheek. 

Legolas was so engulfed in the afterglow of her lips on his and the current touch of her fingers, it took him a moment or two to drag himself out of that daze. "No," he whispered, "why should I not? I have missed it." Irulan smiled a fabulous smile and folded his hand between hers while he stood gazing down at her, mesmerized. "Besides," he managed to say a short while later, "As a warrior of Gondor and man of honor, it would be my duty to take care of my elven lady. I could possibly not let you wander off alone!" A grin accompanied that statement and gained a gleeful chuckle from Irulan. 

"Do you like your costumes?" came Baeron's voice then and both turned to see him leaning on the doorframe, his arms crossed on his chest and that famous amused grin on his handsome features. 

"Of course!" beamed Irulan, letting go of Legolas' hand to retrieve her dress from the bed. "It is so beautiful," she whispered in awe, holding it up. "It is an elven gown, yes?"

"It is," grinned Baeron, cocking his head. "I thought this night you can be an elf and we..." with that he walked up to the other man and clasped his shoulder, "...can be human, for a change."

"Baeron, you are a genius!" she said, her eyes full with stars. 

"I know," he sighed, pulling them all into laughter. 

***

Legolas softly sat on the edge of the bed, facing her and after a moment, began to run his fingers through her hair. Irulan did not look up immediately as she remained leaning on her outstretched right arm, her left hand caressing the soft fabric of the gown. His eyes followed her movement and glided down to her dress that was as fabulous as only an elven garment could be. Cream colored, embroidered with light blue and silver leaves, it shone and shimmered to the eye. The utmost detail of its intricate pattern, the glow of the fabric, and the elegance of its shape –especially against the fact that it was thousands of years old- would make the ugliest woman beautiful. But on her...it simply looked...

He gave up trying to find the word. There was no description to his feelings at this moment. Too see the shimmer of the fabric alone was like seeing the shimmer of the past. It even smelled of the past! He inhaled slowly, feeling his mind spin; feeling it try hard to return to that golden time. 

"How do I look?" she whispered finally and for the first time held his gaze. 

Instead of answering, Legolas raised his hand and glided it over her cheeks, down her neck, the front of the dress, down to her lap that held the many folds of the long skirt. "Words would not do," he whispered, locking eyes with her.

She smiled in amusement. "Well...is there any other way?"

Before she found the time to blink, he gripped her nape and pulled her to himself, clasping his lips on hers. Irulan hesitated only a moment before she leaned into him, her hands moving up his shoulders. Perfect passion, love and adoration was embedded in the action, along with unbelievable demand and desire. His tongue dived into her mouth, tasting every corner of it with fierce fire. A sigh escaped from her and made Legolas pull her even closer, melting her into him. She gasped for breath when he finally allowed her to pull away. "It looks fabulous on you. Better than I can imagine it to look on anyone else," he breathed with a husky whisper, his liquid blue eyes boring into her.

Her eyes traveled down then and for the first time, she realized his attire. Her breath literally caught in her throat at the view in front of her. Tantalized and completely swept away by his appearance, Irulan's fingers slid down over the metal of his breastplate, following the intricate designs of the tree, down to his navel. Legolas always had been an elf to her. Sure, there were times she had been tempted to forget that and think of him as a man…but that was only natural. Elves were masters in blending in and had the skill of making one forget their true nature when such was their intention. 

However…with the outfit of a Gondorian warrior it was simply undeniable that this creature before her was something completely alien to her. She locked eyes with his blue orbs that still gazed at her with deep desire and possession, then swallowed hard with the effect he had on her by simply looking like this. No modern outfit – not even the best fabric and the greatest designer could make Legolas look more divine than he did at this moment. For this was HIS time and HIS way and it was majestic to say the least. 

"You look…you look fabulous, Legolas," she whispered, her awe easily recognizable. 

His predatory expression did not change at all while he gently squeezed her fingers. "My sentiments exactly," he said then, his gaze gliding over her gown again. Her hands wandered down his shoulders, feeling the rough tunic underneath, amazed by its texture and its brilliance to withstand time. No doubt that Baeron had kept it properly to prevent it from falling apart, but it looked as if it was sewn yesterday. He smiled broader and imitated her by gliding his fingers in lazy circles down her chest before they fanned out and grasped her waist. With unexpected strength the elf lifted her easily, pulling her to himself in one swift movement. Irulan laughed softly with surprise, placing her arms around his neck. "Will you accompany me tonight, my lady?" he whispered, grinning. 

"I don't know," she sighed loftily. "I have many suitors."

Legolas growled and placed his hand on her neck, grasping her jawbone. "Don't you know that a man of Gondor would not take 'no' for an answer?" 

Irulan could not help herself laugh giddily at that. The elf smiled in return and pulled her face to place a slow kiss on her cheek. She sighed and leaned into his ministrations willingly and for many minutes they kissed in tender silence, admiring each other and feeling the love for one another swell into something glorious and heart-warming. Perhaps in their engulfed state and their current attires, to the outside observer they might even have appeared like a couple living in ancient times. And since neither the time, nor their races really mattered, such an observation would not change the fact that it was a wondrous thing growing that night in that particular room – that miraculous thing that was beautiful and moving in every time, between every sort of people, in every setting. 

"I…have to…braid your hair," Legolas mumbled in between kisses. To be honest, at the moment he did not want to do anything else than continuing to taste her sweet mouth – even if it meant missing out on anything else. 

Irulan was not in a too different state and though she commanded them to, her arms refused to release their embrace on his neck. "Do so," she managed to whisper finally. Neither pulled back though, and their kissing continued for another short while and only broke because Baeron's voice from the other room interrupted:

"Irulan! I swear you take as long time to dress as elven maidens did! Heavens, I had forgotten about their frustrating ways!"

Irulan pursed her lips and leaned her forehead on his. Both elf and woman broke into a grin, and a moment after that, soft chuckles. "I completely forgot him!" she whispered, a little embarrassed. 

Legolas grinned broader. "Don't expect me to feel anything but happy about that." She nudged him softly with mock anger and he cupped her face once more, placing a final kiss on her lips.

"That is why I love this century!" moaned Baeron in continuance. "There are women who just put on jeans and a shirt and voila – they are ready! I ADMIRE that!" The last part was distinctively louder, probably meant to be heard by the couple. 

She laughed and drew back as Legolas gave the door an overly amused look. "Stop your fretting, Baeron!" he exclaimed with that beautiful voice of his. "Irulan is almost ready."

"Legolas!" came the frustrated shout instantly. "Have mercy, my friend! My elven patience has waned out millennia ago!"

"So I see," mumbled the other, shaking his head with mock scolding while Irulan laughed harder. 

"All right! Give me a moment for God's sake!" she said finally, getting up to go to the bathroom. 

She washed her face and heard Legolas opening the door while Baeron just continued his complaining. Irulan chuckled to herself, then grasping a towel to dry her face, stepped into the room. Baeron, who, in the face of Legolas' incredible patience, was now recollecting all the things that had annoyed him about elven women and their habits in the Old Days, was stunned into silence with her appearance. "Were they bickering as much as you do?" she said with an open grin, walking up to him. 

He did not answer and only looked her up and down several times in a very strange manner. Irulan halted before him, trying to lock eyes, but Baeron moved away and chose to encircle her instead. She almost laughed out about that peculiar behavior of elves, remembering that not too long ago Legolas had performed the very same thing on her. Only after the round was complete did the elf stop and lock his amazingly beautiful eyes with her. It was her time to take in his impossibly handsome masculine figure, that seemed only pronounced by the identical armor he wore. "I was right," he said finally, breaking into that damnable smile of his. "You look far better than Anariel did."

It was hard not to fall prey to the spell of these elves – especially now that they looked they way they did and she was aware of their true identity. She blushed a little, her eyes finding an amused Legolas, who was leaning on the wall, his arms crossed on his chest. "I really doubt that," she laughed finally. The stillness made her nervous, and both elves seemed content enough with it not to break it. Another moment passed as the men just kept looking at her and Irulan played nervously with her skirts, unsure what to do. 

"This brings back too many memories," sighed Baeron finally. He sorted out a single strand and glided his fingers down it slowly. "And I take it all back," he added a moment later, with a mischievous expression. "It was well worth the wait." 

Irulan grinned openly to that. "Good! Because Legolas still has to braid my hair."

"In the name of Mandos himself!" he protested then, and the room rung with his frustrated voice while the woman shrugged loftily and gathering her skirts, walked up to an eagerly waiting Legolas just when a cheerful music started outside in the street and with its tune, the current times evaporated into an age of fairy tales and mystery. 

**** 

The Masquerade had no specific location. Or if, the whole city was the location. There were, however, special clubs and houses who had prepared indoors activities, and Baeron had already made reservation in the most acknowledged one. 

When Irulan stepped out of the hotel into the street, flanked by the two elves who wore the Gondorian armors, she knew instantly that they would be the center of attention anywhere they went. Because on both the conscious and subconscious level, everyone noticed the strange originality and beauty of their costumes and, more than that, each person that took a look at them perceived the peculiar attractiveness of the elves that had the appearance of her personal bodyguards. Neither of the three had any intentions of wearing a mask. But then, there were many who had chosen not to. What made THEM so unique was, no doubt, the ethereal beauty of the two men walking beside her, and the elven garment she was wearing. 

Irulan, feeling giddy, happy and free, placed her hands in the crooks of their arms, walking down the road that held every possible costume. Some of these where costumes of certain characters or fictional people. Others were just garments like hers - fit for another age and time. Some were both and some were none. The shower of color and light was amazing and she felt like a child in a toy store. 

"I hope your shoes are comfortable," mused Baeron, "for we shall dance till the morning light!" 

"Dance?!" 

Both elves looked down at her horrified tone. "Yes," said Baeron in amusement and gave Legolas a wink, "It is what one does in celebrations, no?" 

They watched her swallow softly. "I...prefer not to." 

"Why is that?" asked Legolas and she did not look up to see him grin. 

"Well...I am not much of a dancer." 

Baeron gasped in mock shock and placed his hand on hers. "This is...unacceptable! Lord Legolas! Surely she must be joking!" 

Legolas sighed, pretending regret. "It is partly my fault. I did not mention the Grand Waltz." 

"The what?!" Her head snapped up to him but she found nothing to read in his blank expression. 

"Don't worry, Irulan," he said gently, "Just follow our lead." 

"Surely you don't expect me to waltz! I mean…I never did it before!" she said in terror. 

"Too late now," said Baeron with irritation. "Where we are going, that's a must." 

"Then let's not go there!" 

"Don't worry Irulan. It's not that hard," said Legolas, barely keeping down a chuckle. 

A very unelf-like snort erupted from Baeron at that and when she turned to him, he pretended to wipe the amusement from his face. "True enough," he said cautiously. "Depends on what you compare it to, of course." 

They kept on terrorizing and teasing Irulan until she felt dizzy with the idea and gathered her skirts to turn around and walk back to the hotel. Both elves laughed for a long while at that, running after her and forcing her to turn around once more. The rest of the road they were chased by an utterly annoyed Irulan who, of course, did not even come close to catching them. "It's this stupid dress! Or else I would show you two!" she shouted in frustration. 

The childish games ended when they arrived at a gigantic building that looked like a palace or an old, large mansion. The doors were wide open and many people were walking in and out while soft music reached their ears. After their names were confirmed at the entrance, the trio stepped into a shower of color, light, music and fabric that was stunning to the senses. Huge crystal chandeliers hung from the impossibly high ceiling, their light reflected on the golden designs of the walls. Some halls were empty and reserved for the dancing while others of the many rooms and terraces were decorated as restaurants our lounges or just chambers for those who felt tired and desired to sit and sip a drink. Some rooms held large Persian carpets with Ottoman pillows arranged around small tables - similar to the restaurant they had been to in Paris. Others housed a more modern air with regular sofas and couches. Still others had a more African atmosphere or an Oriental touch to them. 

She strode from room to room with both elves following at her heels, observing her obvious shock and delight. "This is incredible!" she exclaimed after a good number of rooms, with still too many ahead of her. "I have never seen such glamour!" 

"It is incomparable to the past," said Baeron then, leaning on the doorframe and giving the room that was embedded in red light and Chinese decoration a long, inspecting look. 

"Wow," she just managed to say to that idea, trying to imagine how much more fancy and rich things could look. 

"Pick a room and let us rest for a few minutes," Legolas said, brushing the hair over her shoulder. 

"Here looks nice. But let me go to the restroom first." 

They nodded and walked into the red room with sculptures of dragons and phoenixes to find a spot while Irulan asked someone for the ladies' room, then walked down the corridor. 

Neither spoke until a waitress with a tray approached them and took their order of drinks. Legolas knew that Baeron would never let him pay for anything while they were together, so he did not attempt to. Such things held no importance amongst elves and they found the argument about money insulting and therefore avoided it at all times. Also, since all elves were fairly wealthy and had neither desire nor need for money, it was foolish to insist on paying as an act of courtesy. They rather got rid of the matter altogether by making the payment as quickly and silently as possible and closing the subject. Never did they try to lower a given price or attempt to get discounts. Finance was a means to an end for them and even then, they found it disturbing -almost repulsive, one could say- and walked around it, not talking about it except in matters that concerned the deeds and the budget of the Circle. 

"You seem happier than I have seen you ever before, my Lord," Baeron said suddenly as the soothing tones of an Oriental folkloric song swept the room. 

"I have Irulan now," Legolas replied, crossing his arms on his chest. His tone seemed both matter-of-fact and cautious. 

"She is a fascinating woman," the other elf spoke quietly, gliding his fingers over the pattern of gold that was stitched onto the crimson fabric of his pillow. 

"Baeron," began the Prince, for the first time making eye contact with him. A moment passed as expressionless blue locked to blank hazel. "We are giants striding this world of fragile and tender. You and me have learned this lesson in the most bitter fashion. But we HAVE learned, have we not?" 

It took the Scout a moment to nod and reluctantly cast down his gaze. "Oh yes," he whispered, the grief in his voice almost strange for a Firstborn, "we have learned that lesson." 

Legolas sighed, gazing to the door once more and crossing his arms on his chest. "Millennia have passed, and still her memory haunts me." 

Baeron looked up then and the Prince felt forced to lock eyes with him once more. Much anger and regret was in those beautiful hazel eyes. "Not for a single day has it deserted me," was the bitter whisper of a reply.

Legolas nodded. "It was a heavy price and the payment will continue until we close our eyes a final time to this world. But..." his eyes turned icy in a matter of seconds, "...the deed will not be repeated. Ever again. I love Irulan." 

"You loved Bentanta, too," was the low, but almost spiteful reply. 

A reluctance and a deep sigh on the Prince's behalf. "She was a person of utmost value, whom I had the luck of meeting. And yes, the Valar know I loved her. But…not like this. Not like this, Baeron. This is different." 

"I am happy for you, my Lord," he sighed and swallowed to get rid of the bitter tang of his tone that kept prevailing no matter how hard he tried. "I know how that feels." Their gazes locked again and a strength like no other emanated from both. A dangerous, solid and intimidating strength. "And I have tasted its loss as well." 

Legolas did not reply. He resisted the urge to dig up the ancient arguments. Too many times they had exchanged those - too many times they had blamed each other with almost countless reasons. It was all said and repeated, then dug out and repeated some more. Neither had nothing new to add to it and neither wished to, anyway. "Do not worry," murmured Baeron finally, turning to look at the door, too. He forced a smile to return to his visage and though he succeeded in the act, the expression was more sad than gleeful. "You know that my respect and love for you has not altered a bit. And I carry deep affection for King-daughter, as well as for the rest of her kind. She has chosen you, I can see that. I would never interfere." 

No elf, would, actually. Not under normal circumstances, anyway. But sometimes...well sometimes the heart reigned and even elves -perhaps ESPECIALLY elves- were not immune to its mad call. Then all borders were crossed and all rules diminished into dust. It was in those times that giants fought, their heavy feet thundering the earth and the sound of their sharp instruments ruling the heavens. Giants fought and any mortal who happened to be in the way died and perished from the heat of their dance of fury and passion. 

"Thank you," Legolas said finally. 

Baeron glanced back at him for a moment. "My honor, Lord Legolas." He held out his hand and the other elf grasped his wrist as their gazes remained locked. 

"I hope this does not mean a secret agreement for another teasing episode on my behalf!" said Irulan with mock scolding as she approached them. Both almost simultaneously broke into a smile and turned to look up at her. She halted once she reached them, looking from one to the other, unable to decide which one looked more fabulous. They grinned up to her, again in similar fashion, and Irulan chuckled, gliding to sit between them. Legolas encircled her waist, giving her a soft kiss on the cheek and a moment after that their drinks arrived. 

"To elves and humans!" said Baeron, raising his goblet. 

"To dwarfs, Wizards and hobbits alike!" Legolas countered with a fabulous grin. 

"To orcs and Uruk-hai!" added Irulan and enjoyed the shock on both faces before she laughed out loud and took a hefty gulp from her drink. 

"To the fair gender!" exclaimed both Legolas and Baeron then, grinning at each other before they drank as well.

***

The rest of the night was like a fairy tale to her. The music, the food and not to mention, the overwhelming presence of these incredible creatures just blurred everything into one giant, amazing experience. They walked from room to room, and each chamber inspired one or the other to talk about this or that time or adventure. It was a true treat for her, for she loved their tales and all the people they had met. At times Irulan would tilt on Legolas and he would embrace her gently. The hard surface of the armor was uncomfortable under her face, but his embrace felt too good, and she would remain like that while Legolas combed through her hair, talking with Baeron about diverse matters, inspiring her fleeting thoughts and dreams for the upcoming hour. Then she would wake up from her daze and they would walk on to another room, standing in observation of the couples swinging around it and diving into another incredibly interesting conversation. 

To her utter demise Baeron actually did force her to join him for a slow dance and all her begging to an amused Legolas did not help at all. The elf easily dragged her away towards the other couples who were dancing to a slow tune in that particular chamber. Though she was very uneasy about the dancing, the closeness of Baeron was a welcome thing. The bond of Sharing was fiercely strong and her connection to him seemed more evident with his proximity. Thankfully Baeron remained gentle and warm, but never flirtatious. Of course he must have seen her new relation to Legolas and as any other respectable elf would have done, had stepped silently aside, not repeating his offer. 

"I have missed you," she sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. It was ridiculous but Baeron felt like her oldest friend who had been away for too long. 

He laughed then. "And I have missed you, King-daughter," was the gentle reply, followed by an encouraging caress of her back. 

"I might live in England," she sighed several moments later, pulling back a little to look at him. "With Legolas." 

He smiled in reply. "That is a wise choice." 

She bit her lower lip. Although he showed no bitterness at all, she felt somehow bad about the fact that she had chosen Legolas over him. "Will you come and visit us?" 

He smirked a little. "England is not my favorite place," was his distant reply. "I prefer the plains of Kenya. Or the mountains of Tibet. Or the tundras of China. Perhaps you can join me there?" he grinned. 

"Deal!" she said with enthusiasm. 

Baeron laughed again and the sound chimed in her head. "You are too easy, Irulan!" 

She shrugged deftly. "I see no need for pretense." 

He looked down at her for a long moment and if she hadn't been drunk, she would have detect the admiration on his face. "Lord Legolas is a wonderful man, I am certain of that. While he is with you, you will never need any other. But...if you DO need help -in anything, Irulan- you have my numbers." 

"Yes," she said, gently squeezing his shoulder. 

"And I want to apologize again. You are too proud a person to say it, but I am certain that the Sharing has bothered you a lot." 

"I would do it all over again," was her gentle response. "I have no regrets whatsoever, Baeron." 

His hand on her waist gained a slightly stronger grasp as he kept looking down at her. "Don't tell Legolas," he whispered into her ear a moment later, "but those are my sentiments exactly." Irulan giggled as he pulled back, grinning down at her. "It was wrong to do it in the manner I did - I do not doubt that. But...I shall always remember my Sharing with you as a moment of great friendship and love, dear Irulan."

"So will I," she said, not diverting her gaze from his. A moment passed between them. "You speak as if we will never meet again!" she added then, with a nervous chuckle. 

Baeron shrugged, a swift childish grin gliding over his visage. "Who knows?" His eyes glazed as she watched him become somber once more. "I blink and alas, a year has passed. I turn around, a decade has flown by. A moment's distraction and a century is lost. And everyone I loved and cared for, gone from my reach for all times."

For a moment and a moment only, his sentiments of impossibly deep sorrow pulsed out of him. A single wave that diffused and sank into the sands of time. And yet, she had felt it and it bound her to him like nothing else could. She stopped her movement and the elf blinked, halting himself. Her hand went up to his face and Baeron remained mesmerized as her warm palm was placed on his cool cheek. He too felt a great bond between them – something grander than the bond of the Sharing. The bond of sympathy. Of understanding. Of willingness to lean on one another. Of deep trust and brutal honesty. And as their skins touched in that peculiar fashion, he realized that he would die for this woman. Any given day. 

The thoughts rushed through his head and his heart, rendering him even more speechless while Irulan held him with her dark eyes, as if holding a puppet by the strings. "Promise me then, that we will meet once more. Against all odds. No matter the distance. Whatever the circumstances. Promise!"

How could anyone promise such a thing? Who knew what tomorrow held? He shook his head, trying to convey his thoughts to her, but she pursed her lips and her look gained a more determined streak. "*I* promise then!" was the final statement and her usually tender and gentle voice was replaced with a tone that spoke of doubtless and harsh demand. 

Baeron had never met the legendary Aragorn and seldom had he regretted missing a chance like that. During the time of the man, his battles had led him from one end of Middle Earth to the other and back. During Aragorn's reign, there was even more to do on behalf of Middle Earth and elves. And always had he intended to go to Minas Tirith to meet this man of whom all spoke with much reverence and awe. Time is a tricky thing for elves. Most never learn its impact on other creatures of this world unless they live amongst them for a prolonged period. Only these few come to learn never to postpone things and remain alert at all times. Only they remember to show effort not to slide back into the timeless reverie of their kind and forget that life flows by them with the speed of a wild river. When Baeron finally made it to the White City, it was sadly for the funeral of the great king. The funeral was only a day. The regret was forever. 

But this day, when he was holding the man's great-great-great granddaughter in his arms, he recognized that something that seemingly everyone else had seen and observed and that he, in his idleness, had missed. No words would due justice to his momentary feelings. But maybe they could be resembled to a second chance for something very, very dear and important. 

He breathed deeply and blinked to regain his focus. Irulan seemed to have lost her intensity as well and her eyes held only an honest pleading while she waited for his reaction. "Well...I guess then we WILL meet again," he said softly, bringing her hand up for a kiss. 

She sighed with contentment, nodded, then turned in an attempt to locate Legolas amongst the crowd. "Shall we return now?" he said, observing her eagerness to find the other elf – and not completely without jealousy, one must add. 

Irulan nodded once more. "I think I should sit a little. I feel somewhat dizzy."

Baeron grasped her hand and guided her to the large, dark terrace. She saw nothing in the dim light of the scattered lanterns, but he continued his walk and before long, they had arrived at the corner couch where Legolas was sitting. He had been gazing out to the city which looked splendid from this location and with their approach, turned to them, smiling brightly. An ivy-like plant provided a roof for the couch, and the single lantern hanging on the wooden structure lost underneath the plant, threw only the faintest of glimmers. It was enough for Irulan to see his figure and his silver hair and she walked up to him, almost collapsing into his embrace. He laughed then, pushing her hair aside to see her face. "What is it, my love? Was Baeron too merciless?"

She sighed and shifted a little to sit properly and embrace him back while the other elf chuckled in delight: "I believe on this trip Irulan drank enough for a lifetime! I doubt that she will ever touch wine again!"

Legolas grinned and pulled her slightly away to look down at her face. "Is that so?" he whispered gently. 

"How come you guys never get drunk?" she protested, finally locking eyes with him. 

"It takes a lot more to intoxicate an elf," she heard Baeron saying behind her, amusement heavy in his voice. "Though of course we are easy prey for beauty in any form and shape," was the matter-of-fact addition. Legolas laughed softly and Irulan sighed, gliding on the sofa to lie sideways on his chest. The elf folded her in his embrace as she relaxed and sank into the comfort of this position. "Allow me a short absence," Baeron said and though she had not heard or felt him get off the couch, his voice seemed to come from a little further away. "I believe I saw some familiar faces in the crowd tonight. Let me go and find out if that is so."

Many minutes passed and Irulan almost fell asleep as the elf combed his fingers through her hair. It was somewhat chilly but not very much so. Legolas was just thinking that this must be what contentment felt like when her whisper broke the spell: "Legolas," it came, almost inaudibly. He waited for her to continue, and she only did so after a moment's hesitation. "When you look in the mirror…what do you see?" 

His waited in confusion, his pale fingers remaining in her dark waves. Almost a minute passed and finally, receiving no answer to her question, Irulan slowly sat up and turned to look him straight in the eye. His heart skipped a beat at the brown speckled with the moonlight. He froze completely when her fingers went up his cheek, gently gliding down. And yet silence prevailed between them. She sat a little back, smiling a beautiful smile. "What do you see?" she whispered softer, leaning towards him again. His breath caught in his throat when he felt the warmth of her body in the crispy air. 

Irulan cocked her head and a wave traveled through her hair as it would through a flag. "Do you see your beauty?" She continued with a smile, and he could have sworn that he had never seen anything so gorgeous in his entire life. "Or have you grown used to it? Do you see what you are?" she whispered, crouching closer and despite himself, he reached out to grasp her waist, craving the contact. 

"Tell me what YOU see, then," he replied, so dazed and lost, and so loving it. 

"I see..." she sighed as he pulled her closer and she settled against him, her hands on his shoulders, her eyes inspecting his face, "...every person you have ever met. Every little thing that you have ever touched. Everything that has touched you. Moved you." She inhaled softly. "You are a gift, Legolas." Unable to hold back any longer and frustrated with the desire for her, he pulled her closer and kissed her cheek. She obliged to his demand, melting against him, her hand crawling around his neck to embrace him loosely. "I have never regretted being human," she sighed, laying her head on his shoulder. "And never thought of myself less than your kind." A moment passed and he embraced her stronger, pulling her against himself. "But now...at this moment...when I realize how...insufficient I am in understanding you...in ADMIRING you..." She sighed again and the frustration was evident in it, "This moment I prove all my past a lie."

"Don't speak like that," he managed to say, shocked by her words. Shocked, yes. But also incredibly overjoyed. Pleased. Honored. "You are perfect, Irulan."

She laughed at that – a tired, bitter laugh. "It must be true," she whispered, "if you say so."

"It IS true!" he said, almost with urgency, pulling her a little back to take a better look at her. "To me, you are."

Irulan smiled then, and her expression spoke of gratefulness. Which, to his demise, only made him more eager to convince her. She was a goddess! How could she not see? "WE are perfect," he whispered, cupping her chin to make her look up. "We will be", he added with sharp determinism. Irulan sighed and took his hand from her chin, kissing the palm. 

"I would like that," was her late whisper. A strange sorrow came over her. The music in the background seemed to agree with her and assumed a sad tone. Perhaps it was because she was face to face with something that reminded her only how little she was. He would live uncountable years. She only the duration between an inhale and exhale. He was perfect. Immaculate. Wise and deep. She was anything but. Perhaps it was the tartness of injustice she felt at that. The intense need to belong to something, to be part of something like that. To reach beyond herself and touch something that was denied her and the rest of her kind. 

"Irulan," he whispered, sensing her agony and not understanding it, and feeling overly anxious because of that, "why the sorrow?"

She smiled a broken smile and cast down her gaze once more. Legolas, overly disturbed by this sudden change, touched her chin to make her lock eyes with him again. "This does not seem like the Masquerade spirit," he said, forcing a slight amusement into his tone. She did not speak, but folded her own fingers over his hand and remained thus. "What is it, my love?"

"I...feel stupid!" she said, her shaky voice denoting that she was at the verge of crying. His alarm doubled at that and the blankness that hid his emotions automatically sank on his face. 

"What do you mean?" he prodded on when she did not continue. 

She took a deep breath and swallowed hard. "I can not find my place, Legolas!" A momentary silence followed, but he waited through it, though his heart ached with impatience. "I have no place in this world! Who am I? Am I to be solely the kin of a man who died ages upon ages ago?"

"You are a woman of great spirit and strength." His voice was hard and determined. "You will do important things in this world."

"What important things?" was the annoyed response. 

The elf gave her a long, blank look before he spoke again. "Take your place in the Circle, Irulan." She froze at the solemn pleading in his voice. "You MUST."

They stared at each other for seemingly minutes and she felt her throat run dry. His blue eyes held her like a magnet holds metal – absolutely. Only when she managed to blink, did she get the chance to break from his gaze. Irulan nervously massaged her neck with her free hand while his continued the caress of her palm steadily. "I don't think…I really am not the kind of person…I mean…"

"We need you. We need your wisdom," he cut in. "You will contribute so much more than the rest of your kind who dominate it now in your absence!"

"My…my WISDOM?" was the bitter chuckle of a reply as Irulan wiped the new born tears from her cheeks. When Legolas just looked back in all seriousness, she finally sighed with discomfort and frustration. "I can not," was her late statement. "I know what you will say!" she broke in before he could object. "That it is my duty. My responsibility. My this and my that…I've heard it all before, trust me."

"Nonsense!" he said then, waving his hand. "Your DUTY? Who said such a foolish thing?" Irulan eyed him suspiciously, but to her amazement he did not seem mocking at all. "It is your salvation, my love," he continued with a low voice, leaning in closer again. She merely frowned in reply, confused by his words. "You have to put your skill and your potential to use, Irulan. Denial of that will be torture for you."

She pursed her lips and looked away, but the elf's fingers found her chin and pulled back her face once more. Legolas gave her a long, supportive smile before he continued. "You told me of your boredom. Of your unfulfilled life. Of your unhappiness. This, Irulan, is the cure for it. You will not be happy traveling from place to place. Nor will you find joy in dreaming about ages past. You have to use the gift that is yours and yours alone – only that will give you purpose and guidance." His words sank into her heart like some bitter medication. Though she hated the taste of it, she knew that it was the truth the solution. She cast her gaze down again, biting her lower lip. "You will find your place," he growled, lacing his fingers with hers while his other hand cupped her chin. "WE will find your place. I promise."

Irulan nodded, pursing her lips and wiping away the wetness on her cheeks. He swallowed softly, his heart in incredible pain at the sight of her and his mind at a loss of solutions. His love for her, he knew now, was preventing any cold blooded and calm decision on his behalf. And he was left with this frenzy – this solemn ache, this restless bafflement. "I know what it is like," he whispered, gently cupping her face. 

She looked up at him with deep confusion. "What is it like?" she whispered finally.

Irulan only blinked at his touch on her cheeks that were wet with her tears. She remembered feeling weak and ashamed. She remembered the tinge of sadness...such peculiar sadness. Like a butterfly with no wings, realizing that it would never have wings. Never ever. She remembered his majestic smile. And his eyes that flared up to fill the world. 

And then something...glided. No...'SHIFTED' was a better word for it. It shifted and a strange silence came over her. As if someone had suddenly cut off the music. Or pulled the plug. As unexpected and intimidating it was, it was not terrible in any manner. It felt like flying over a silent sheet of blue. 

When she blinked again she was not on the terrace. She was not even in Vienna. She had no idea where she was, only that she stood in some garden. Irulan froze, no clue what was going on, but amazed by it anyway. It did not matter if she had fallen of the couch and hit her head; if she had drifted into slumber on Legolas' lap, or simply gone mad. After a moment's hesitation she reached out and touched a leaf that belonged to a vine, crawling up a tall tree. It felt so unexpectedly real that her first reaction was to withdraw her hand and swallow softly with a strange excitement. 

It looked like any garden, really, only perhaps more rich and green and...wild. It was noon time and warm. A cozy, comfortable warmth. The air was so strangely fresh and brisk. A moment passed. Then another. Suddenly the idea of Legolas occurred to her and she opened her mouth to call to him, when she looked ahead and what she saw there made her freeze absolutely. 

A couple was sitting in the distance and as soon as she laid eyes on them, she knew who they were. 

Nothing could explain why Irulan felt no fear, then. It would be the normal human reaction, would it not? It would be understandable. But all she felt was...contentment. Her eyes greedily took in everything there was to see, then returned and did so again and again. Her mind was prey to the panic of seeing it for the first and most probably last time in her entire life. Only after many moments did the alarm leave her and she allowed herself to linger to take in the details. 

There was not much to see, really. And yet...there was the WORLD to see! 

The woman was sitting on a stone bench, her figure turned away from her. She had dark hair – almost black. It seemed unnaturally beautiful. Long and appearing so soft, that one itched with the need to glide a hand through it to confirm the sensation. All she offered was the curve of a long neck and the skin of her hand that lay on her lap. She might have been carved of marble, so white and flawless was she. And yet...she was alive. For she was humming as song, her voice very subtle, but at the same time clear and strong, reaching Irulan easily. It held no words...only a melody that was strangely not rhythmic, but very soothing. 

Unconsciously Irulan cocked her head, trying to engrave it into her memory, knowing that with such an unusual rhythm, she never would succeed in doing so. During her effort her gaze went up to the figure of the man who stood behind the bench. Irulan watched his profile that was lost in the concentration of braiding the long, dark hair.

His opposition to all that she was, made the picture almost absurd. She was fine and clean. He was raw and rugged. She was motionless. He was moving. She was ethereal. He was earthy. She was grace. He was alluringly primal. But against all her perfection, all her beauty and her grace, odd enough, she seemed succumbed, submitted while he seemed strong and overpowering. His short and all-too-human fingers dived into her hair repeatedly, separating strands and braiding them into an intricate design. Braiding them with such...love. And such tenderness. Such gentle admiration and complete dedication. 

Irulan held her breath, all her concentration shifting entirely to her ears. A silly certainty came over her: this was no mere braiding. This was poetry! This was an ode. A serenade. A praise. No...no this was no action! It was an exchange of the most beautiful words. Words of hope. And peace. And a blissful tomorrow. Words reserved only to the couple and inaudible to her. A whine almost escaped her lips at that...and the urgent need...the fiery desire to hear it came over her. To hear it again and again. 

In this moment of utter simplicity, in this time that now only was a dim whisper of dead names, a poem lay before her eyes. A poem of great importance and meaning. In this journey over an endless, bare plain where millions walked –some in groups, few in couples and most in solitude; some singing and dancing, some in deep conversation, most only listening; some joyful and excited, others calm and composed, most solemn and afraid- in this great Migration of the Souls, one person had stood on a cliff overseeing it all and written words of his vision. It meant the answer to all. It was the key to anything. It was the common word in all languages. But it would not open to her. It would not yield. Like the great, sacred, mythical beast in the forest, it remained a shadow amongst the trees….a reflection in a pond….a rustle in the wind. A turn of the head, and there was only the fleeting of its shadow. A blink of the eyes, and only the swirling dust remained proof of its departure. That…and the amber fire of the desire to pursue it again. And again. And once more. 

She sighed in frustration and with a knowledge that was beyond her understanding, knew in that instant that these were the exact sentiments that Legolas had felt, standing at this very spot, a very, very long time ago. She closed her eyes in concentration and yes, there it was again – the hammer of longing. The red hot blade of envy. The anvil of admiration. The fire of hope. The cool water of desperation. And the steam of need. Behold the end product: a perfect blade. The blade that had slashed him year upon year, decade after decade. 

When she opened her eyes again, the garden was gone. The night was back. As was the partly view of Vienna. And his face, inches from her own. Irulan took a shaky breath as the long, slender and ethereal fingers of the recollection gently shifted and glided away from the fingers of her heart, the loss of contact a sad goodbye. 

She closed her eyes again, trying to adjust to the shifting of realities. Strange as it was, it was not as difficult for her as she had expected it to be, after reading so much about it in the archives. And unlike it had been with Baeron, this time there was neither pain, nor disturbance. Only the well-known desire to hold on to the beast of the memory and let it drag her into the depth of the ocean of time, into certain death. Thankfully that longing was not incredibly powerful as it had been that day, and soon faded into mist. 

"Tell me you are all right!" Legolas whispered then, breaking her thoughts. The urgency and regret in his tone made her lock eyes with him again. "Irulan! Tell me so! Now!"

She said nothing and his palms held her face stronger as the blue gaze in his eyes swept over her features with great haste. Feeling overly greedy, stupid, selfish, careless and all the other terrible things a man could be, he opened his mouth to say so, when she suddenly closed the small distance between their faces and placed her lips on his. 

Of all things, this was definitely not what Legolas had been expecting. So much so, that his initial thought was –as foolish as it might sound- that he must be mistaken. But when her lips engaged in the undeniable act of kissing, all thought and hesitation flew off him. He reacted as if it was the most natural of all reflexes, grasping her desperately and pulling her closer, kissing her back. His tongue plunged into her mouth with sheer and desperate need and indescribable relief. Irulan gave in under him, embracing him stronger and moving almost as if to sit on his lap. She ended up doing so anyway because Legolas pulled her there, grasping the roots of her hair. He tilted his head the other way and kissed her again, the fire and passion for her taste growing more the more he received it. 

No doubt that this was a terribly ill-mannered thing to do. And very unlike both Irulan and the elf that Legolas was. But neither gave a damn at the moment. The afterglow of the Sharing was searing...it tore through them, shredding all such unnecessary social necessities into pieces and throwing it into the wind. But it was not that impulsive and instinctive need alone, of course. It was the fierce love of Legolas and the amazing gratefulness and sympathy of Irulan. It was the need to touch someone like no one has been touched before. In a life full with clothes and garments, it was the strong urge to shed it all and touch real skin – to feel life itself. 

She broke off, the need to breathe instinctively taking over. Legolas moaned with disappointment, his eyes fluttering open. She panted, watching the blue of his orbs swirl like some strange liquid as his warm breath washed over her face, intoxicating her. 'This,' she thought, not really conscious what she was thinking, 'is mine. Mine alone. This moment. This man. This gift is mine. This love is mine.' She blinked with the realization of that thought and the truth it rang in her. He grasped her waist harder, pulling her closer yet, but Irulan placed her hands on his face, refraining from movement. This was not Legolas anymore. This was...hard to describe...but...this was a part of her. 

"I love you," she whispered, breathless. Legolas became unnaturally still and just stared back at her like some frozen, lifeless puppet. Irulan laughed softly. It was not every day that one managed to shock an elf into immobility. "I love you, Legolas," she sighed, kissing him lightly on the lips. He was too stunned to respond, and his only action was the slight movement of his orbs. She smiled and slightly rose on her knees to gaze down at him. She kissed him again, her lips brushing over his and again he did not respond, only closed his eyes to the feeling.

Irulan kissed his cheek, then embraced him, placing her own against his. Legolas encircled her waist once more, pulling her to sit on his lap again. Many moments passed as they remained in perfect union. "I love you too," he whispered finally. "I have found you," he said then, his voice raw and shaky. He swallowed hard at the force of his sentiments and inhaled softly. "/I have found you/," he breathed in Elvish, "/I am complete/."

Irulan had no idea what he was saying or what exactly was happening. It did not matter. She only knew that she had reached something of incredible value and that everything else faded into unimportance in comparison to it. So she held on to it, her arms encircling his shoulders and her face delving into his neck. She held on to it, letting go of everything else. 

***

Baeron found them in a very unexpected state of intimacy – Legolas half sitting and half lying on the couch, far more relaxed than he had ever seen him, and Irulan sitting on his lap, folded into his embrace, facing him. Their eyes were locked and she was playing with his silver hair while his fingers were repeatedly traveling over the skin of her neck and her shoulders. He stood a long moment, watching them. A man and a woman…one with his back turned to the east, the other with hers turned to the west. Each facing only the other. A story written over and over again. And always fascinating to the heart. 

He did not interrupt and turned to take another stroll through the mansion. No one had noticed his arrival. No one saw his departure. 

***


	17. The Perfect Beat

This chapter is fro Kris, who has graciously accepted to be my beta and who has put her wonderful support into the story. 

We have climbed a mighty mountain. This is what a plateau feels like. 

"Don't forget about our promise," she whispered to Baeron. The night had grown very, very late and dawn was approaching. 

"Never," he whispered in return, not blinking once. His fingers rose to her cheek and glided down almost in the same fashion as they had the night in Paris. 

She nodded, then embraced him and placed a single kiss on his cheek. Baeron said nothing, but gave her a long, apprehensive look, as if he meant to etch her into his memory for all times. She saw the sadness that was the curse of his kind, fluttering in his eyes like a bird fluttering helplessly in a cage. The curse of sitting in the corner, seeing everyone come in, sit at the table for a pleasant conversation, then get up and leave, never to return again. "Then I will not say farewell yet," was her gentle statement. 

"May our paths cross once more, my friend," he said to Legolas. 

The other nodded and replied in the traditional way: "In this world or the other." 

They shook hands and after that, Legolas embraced Irulan's back and guided her away from Baeron, in the direction of the hotel. After a good distance she turned to glance over her shoulder and to her surprise, Baeron was still there, his stance completely unchanged. There was something almost eerie about his outline, with his Gondorian armor and his hands clasped behind his back standing in the middle of the street, his face in shadows while laughing and singing groups and couples passed by him. It seemed exactly like a reflection of his life amongst mortals. 

The vision stayed with her until they arrived at the hotel, some forty minutes later and some five minutes after that, walked into their room. 

It was dark but Legolas did not turn on the lights. Instead, he continued his guidance to the bedchamber in darkness. Irulan sighed and releasing herself from his arm, walked up to the bed. She struggled to reach the ties that held the gown behind her back, but as before, the thing did not look like it was designed to be put on or shed without help (Legolas had assisted her in putting it on, earlier that day). 

After a few minutes of struggle she uttered a frustrated moan and sank onto the bed. Legolas, who had not followed her into room, materialized at the door. Irulan was about to tell him some of her opinions concerning why gowns had fulfilled their time and thankfully became extinct as a species, when his appearance forced her into speechless gaping. Unlike her, he had managed to shed his outer armor and stood with his leggings and his cream colored rough linen shirt. The shirt had a very low neckline and revealed his perfect, pale chest. He had his second shirt in his hand when he locked eyes with her. Irulan closed her mouth and remained perfectly still when the elf smiled a breath-taking smile and after a seemingly too long moment, threw the clothing in his hand into the corner, without breaking eye contact with her. 

She swallowed softly and managed to tear her eyes away, focusing instead on the color of the bedcover she was sitting on. "Allow me to help," he said slowly as he sat on the bed behind her. She felt herself tensing with the excitement of his proximity, but made no move or sound as his fingers found the straps and ties behind her back, slowly undoing them from top to bottom. He remained silent and so did she, her head spinning, her heart pacing and her lungs burning with the recent events. She shifted despite herself when his fingers touched her bare back as he continued to untie the seemingly endless straps, but Legolas gave no indication of seeing it and continued without haste. 

When he reached the middle of her back and the garment was sliced open in the upper part, revealing a good amount of back and shoulders, Irulan felt the ache of sitting as erect as a stick and placed her hand in front of her, leaning slightly on it. This served to aid his job, exposing more of her back to him, but again Legolas said nothing and remained completely silent. Irulan dropped her head, massaging her neck with her other hand and trying very hard to think of something -anything- other than the fact that Legolas was sitting behind her and undressing her in this dark and confining room. 

In her eagerness to do so, she did not even feel him finish his task. But when his hands gracefully parted the fabric to settle on her lower back, she instantly returned to the present. Nothing happened for a moment and she held her breath, excited beyond her wits by the warmth of his touch alone. His hands moved up and fanned out in an arc, pushing the dress away completely. Her own hand unconsciously closed on the cover of the bed when he reached her sides and glided down to halt at her waist. 

Still Irulan could not move or speak. As a matter of fact, she was amazed that she could even breathe. The silence was so deep that she felt the need to say something, but words evaded her. What was there to say? This was not a moment of speech. Her breath quickened as she hesitated in regard to her next action. Perhaps she should get up and move away at this point? She had no idea why she would want to do a thing like that, but it seemed somehow right. 

The thought vanished when Legolas kissed her between the shoulder blades. To be honest, all thought vanished with that action. Irulan was only aware that she clutched the sheet harder with both hands, instinctively leaning further down as if to evade the scorching fire of his lips. But her arms remained rigid and only pronounced her shoulder blades further. When he moved further left, placing another kiss in the upraised flesh, she froze to immobility. Her mouth dropped open, still distantly attempting to speak, but again she found nothing to say. 

Her lack of reply only encouraged him further and he continued his action, less hesitant and more bold this time. Her frozen state continued when he glided to the right, reveling in the taste of her upper back before he found her spine once more. His hands on her waist slid further in to gain a better grasp of it and he slightly pulled her towards himself while he continued his journey along her backbone, further down. At this point, Irulan was definitely on fire. And she had no clue how he did what he did. She had been with men before, and some of those had been fairly ardent. But none, not a single one, could compare to the thrill that was roaring in her with the warm, moist trail of kisses Legolas was leaving on her back. It was not a willing, but rather an inevitable reaction that at his arrival at the small of her back she gasped and sat up erect, thereby preventing the continuance of his ministrations. 

Irulan swallowed with unease when his lips moved away, feeling both regret and relief simultaneously. A shaky breath escaped her lips when his hands glided up her waist, meeting in the middle. But to the contrary of her expectations of being removed from her back, they continued their upward path and grasped her shoulders, exerting a strong pull and forcing her to tilt back on him. The unexpected motion made her tip back and collide her naked skin with his soft linen shirt and almost instantly his left arm snaked around her waist, securing her position. Her body had nothing to use as leverage and Irulan remained stiff, but plastered against him. 

"Sssshhhhh," he said into her ear. Instead of relaxing her, his warm breath on her neck excited her only further. Both of her hands found the arm that was encircling her and grasped it with the need to hold on to something. "Are you afraid, Irulan?" he whispered before he kissed the junction between her neck and her ear, causing a slight tremble in her body. 

She swallowed hard, hoping that her voice would comply. "I....no. Yes. Maybe......I guess a little," she stammered, feeling extremely foolish and about five years old. 

Though she could not see his face, she felt him smile before he continued kissing her neck and her shoulder in agonizing slowness. "Don't be," he finally said into her ear, and this time nipped its lobe. Irulan's eyes fluttered and her grasp on his arm immediately grew with the effort to stifle an automatic moan. It took a good amount of strength to do that and when she emerged victorious from the battle a few moments later, Legolas' other hand was gently and skillfully releasing the loose braids in her hair. When the task was done he sighed softly and glided his hand through it several times while Irulan tilted her head slightly forward to give him easier access. It felt so damn good! Almost miraculously relaxing.

He shifted then, tilting her forward into her former position and once again Irulan swiftly placed her hand on the bed beside her, leaning on it. Legolas retrieved his hand from her waist and the contact between them ceased completely when he reclined. She remained in the position he had placed her in, like some stupid toy, out of breath. Of all things, she did not expect the harsh cold that ran through her when his touch ended. Her eyes flew open and she trembled slightly once more at the intensity of need she felt for him. The room was rather warm, but it felt nowhere near enough at the moment. Just when she was about to turn around and see why he had drawn back like that, she felt Legolas shift and move behind her, so she decided to wait. A moment later he placed his hand directly behind hers and leaned on it in a similar fashion. His body pressed onto hers and when his chin rested on her shoulder, Irulan felt the touch of his naked chest against her back. 

All thoughts of turning away from that path vanished from her mind at that sensation. She closed her eyes as his other hand ran down her hair and her spine, then moved up to renew the journey. He said nothing, and compared to her, he seemed very calm and relaxed. Well then....he was expected to be....being probably far more experienced in these matters than herself. She turned her head and for the first time glanced at him over her shoulder. True, Legolas was always stunningly beautiful. But at that moment he looked completely....divine. He smiled a fabulous smile when their eyes met and tilted his head to place his cheek on her shoulder, gazing back at her. His hand never stopped its travel on her back while they stared at each other for several moments. 

He shifted, drawing closer to her and placed a single, scorching kiss on her shoulder, then resumed his position, locking eyes with her once more. Irulan was certain that his steady caress of her hair and her back was some sort of spell, because the death-rate of her heart had ceased and she had drifted into a strange comfort. It almost felt like being drunk. Like the surrender to what was to come. Her battle died and a most welcome acceptance came over her spirit. 

"I want you," whispered Legolas, his blue eyes darker than usual. Her insides literally twisted with that statement, but strange enough she did not feel ashamed or flabbergasted. "But I will not move without consent, Irulan," he added a moment later. 

She almost laughed out loud at that. 'Without consent?!' she thought in awe and disbelief. 'Like I have a choice at this point!' It was downright foolish to be given the choice when one was already seduced into agreement. And cruel, too! "You will leave this room now if I ask you to?" she asked finally, very amused but giving nothing away in her tone of voice. Thankfully the silliness of it lifted some of the drowning intensity. 

Legolas pursed his lips with the effort to look determined. It was against his nature and his principles to do otherwise, but to be honest, he was not as certain as he pretended to be in his reply. "Yes." 

Irulan stared at him, still suppressing the laughter mercilessly. "What will happen then?"

He said nothing for a moment and cast his eyes down. "I will get up," was the slightly heroic and matter-of-fact reply, "and….go to the other room….and….well, my guess is….die," he finished, his tone both sheepish and frustrated at the same time. 

She exploded into soft laughter then and Legolas smiled, retrieving his head from her shaking shoulder, but not moving away. He cocked his head, observing her glee and his smile grew broader while he moved her long hair over her shoulder to expose her back completely. He pressed his palm against her flesh, this time moving up and down with a soothing, wave-like motion. She sighed finally, shaking her head. "I would not want to be the reason for that." 

Something sparked to life in his eyes at her words and he leaned over her shoulder to kiss her warmly on the cheek. A gentle, seductive kiss on her lips followed and she opened her eyes to see him pull away a little. "Give yourself to me," he whispered and Irulan felt surprised once again at how fast his mood could shift. The intensity that had disappeared a moment ago seemed to have returned in the blink in the eye. 

A moment passed, but it held no hesitation for Irulan. The decision was already made. "I am yours to take, Legolas," she said slowly. 

His hand stilled and suddenly a hush fell on her. Legolas neither moved, nor blinked and Irulan believed to hear her own heartbeat like thunder in the room. Then a slow fire crept up to her. A sizzling, frying, sparkling, burning, scorching, searing fire it was. But that was not the strange part. The strange part was, unlike the one that had held unbelievable pain for her just days ago, this one held the opposite: pure, absolute pleasure. 

She took a deep and slow breath as it began to move up, filling her from head to toe. Their eyes did not unlock for a single moment as his hand moved again, gliding down and under her dress, towards the right. It moved over her ribs, further down, encircling her waist once more. 

With no more cloth between them, it felt VERY different than before. Though Irulan held no hesitations about further intimacy with Legolas, at that moment she actually for the first time wondered how she would endure it. She swallowed softly, still not able to divert her gaze from his eyes as the passion that emanated from him became almost unbearable. 

What followed after that moment can only be described as a dance. A dance with a wild, mad, rhythm that never repeated itself. 

At times it was a tango and she found herself both overly excited and baffled by his masculine dominance. She was thrown against the pillows and had no time to catch her breath before Legolas was above her, pinning her hands above her head. Then he would slowly lower himself onto her, his eyes rendering her breathless while he would begin a tantalizing journey with mouth, lips and teeth from ear to navel, from face to breast. None of Irulan's past lovers had owned her, demanded her, desired her like this. 

A waltz would follow and the heated kisses would lose nothing of their passion, but gain an almost noble edge to them. His hands would do an agonizingly alluring and slow undressing of the rest of her clothing with such grace and skill, that she felt like she was not being unclad, but adored. Like a live model, touched by the sculptor to burn every curve into his mind forever. 

Then there was the ballet. The butterfly kisses and the hair combing and the whispered praises. The subtle caresses and the torturous prolonging. 

The beat was like Kodo drums. First there was just a single one....deep and primitive. Then there was another. And another. And before long...or perhaps hours later –she could not be sure- there was this symphony of drums that seemed to echo to her own heartbeat. A duel of genders.....a romance of male and female.....a joining of spirit, body and mind. Love...love....love....love......

And absolute peace. 

Another dance.

Perfect completion. 

Yet another dance.

Unparalleled bliss.

***

The next time she woke up, it was to a kiss on her shoulder. No...more like a string of kisses. She swallowed softly and shifted slightly, her muscles pulsing with a welcome soreness. Legolas grasped her waist from behind and pressed her to himself, continuing his ministrations of her shoulder. His lips moved up her shoulder, to her neck and her ear. He licked her earlobe in a very slow manner. Then again. Then once more before he gently sucked on it. Irulan broke into a moan and clutched the sheet. She simply could not resist this and the evil elf had discovered all her weak points in one night alone! 

"Legolas," she moaned with frustration, "you will kill me!" 

He chuckled behind her, pulling her to lie on her back while he rose on his elbow to look down at her. She did not open her eyes, but felt his gentle caress on her cheek. "I cannot resist," he whispered a moment later and his lips brushed over hers. "Blame your own beauty," was the muffled addition as his kisses trailed down her throat and over her collarbone while his palm drew feathery circles on her abdomen. 

Irulan stifled another moan and wiggled beneath his touch while her eyelids fluttered open. The elf did not halt in his ministrations as the sunlit room came into view and she stared at the ceiling while he continued his journey downwards. Her hands found his head, gliding into the soft hair. Legolas groaned at the touch and moved to lie down on her completely, gazing into her eyes. Irulan's hands wandered down his neck, over his strong and muscular shoulders. He looked like a piece of art - perfect. His skin was fair, but not a disturbing porcelain white - It held a slight olive glaze to it. His figure was not bulky but muscular and lithe, the tendons evident and steely to the touch. Though he was pressed against her, raised on his forearms, he was surprisingly light. 

Her hands retraced the route they had taken and her fingers glided over his sharp jawbone, up to his pronounced cheekbones, his perfect eyebrows, his strong nose and his beautiful lips. Legolas remained absolutely still, his eyes never leaving hers, and only with the touch of her fingers on his lips, gave a sigh of pleasure and kissed them. Her eyes finally found his and neither said a word for a while as their warm bodies remained in that embraced state. 

The most surprising part was that she felt nothing unnatural about the fact that their relationship had gained a quite….heated physical aspect. It felt so incredibly natural! She knew that the Sharing had a part in that – for after such intimacy, making love was not as drastic a thing as it would normally be. Once the spirits had mingled and had been united in that irreversible fashion, the unison of bodies was a pleasant, but not overly daunting phenomenon. Yet…..there was something else about Legolas that made her feel….at home. It made her feel saved. It made her feel as if he had found her, sitting on the dirt, unhappy and unsatisfied and offered his hand, pulling her up to stand erect once more. 

"What happens now?" she said finally, resting her palms on his sides. 

His right hand moved to comb back her hair. He leaned in for a single, tender kiss on the lips before he resumed his posture. "You mean this day?" 

"This day.....and the following days." 

He sighed and kissed her cheek before giving her face a good inspection. "I told Haldir that we want to be present at the meeting." She nodded deftly. "The sooner we go, the sooner we will be done with it. Tomorrow?" 

Irulan nodded again, her hands caressing his ribs. Legolas gave no indication of feeling it as his gaze wandered down to her neck. He slightly turned her face to take a better look at the purple mark. A small smile crept up his face as his fingers traced the evidence of his passion. "Then.....we can do anything we want," he whispered, returning his gaze to her. "I thought we might go to New York together. You can say goodbye to your friends and colleagues......gather the things that you hold of value....." 

His blue gaze held hers as he sighed once more. "England is a good place to dwell for the time being. But I have other estates in many places. Some we can not use - it is too soon yet and I might be remembered. But we can acquire others. Anywhere in the world." He looked at her for a long moment, but her expression said nothing. "Let us buy a house in Manhattan. You can stay there when you miss it." 

She broke into soft laughter. This ease of spending was one thing she needed far more time to get used to. "England is fine." She smirked momentarily. "Wet and chilly....but fine. As for New York...." She sighed, gazing over his shoulder for a moment. "Yes, I will miss it. But even if....I suppose to stay in a hotel is a better solution," she finished with a grin. 

His eyes twinkled and he captured her lips, giving her a long, sound kiss before he sucked on her lower lip and once again, continued along her jawbone. "Legolas!" she scolded with mock frustration, but it was too weak and soon turned into chuckles. "Stop, I say!" He chuckled along, but did not stop at all, delving into the hollow of her throat. Irulan wiggled beneath him and pressed her hands on his chest to push him off, but with lightning speed her hands were found and locked above her head while the elf sighed and continued towards her shoulder. Irulan let out a growl of both frustration and glee, fighting against his impossible hold to no avail. "I think my stomach is growling," she said then, out of breath. 

He only laughed in reply before he kissed her between the breasts. "I don't hear it." 

"I'm very sure," she breathed. 

"Let me see," he said and in one fluid motion sat up and reversed their positions, so that he was sitting against the bedboard and Irulan was on his lap, folded in his embrace. She blinked with surprise, then pushed herself slightly off his shoulders to give him an angry look. Legolas grinned at her attempt and without diverting his gaze from her face, slowly placed his feet on the bed and slightly bent his legs, forcing her to glide down closer to him. His left arm remained on her back while his right hand combed through her hair, then waltzed down her chest to rest on her stomach. They locked eyes and he gave her a very sly smile. "I don't feel it, Irulan," he whispered, pulling her closer. 

She stubbornly tried to retain her position but the elf was too strong for her and Irulan ended up bending her arms by the elbows, standing nose to nose with him. "Well *I* feel it," she managed to say finally. It was becoming harder to look angry when Legolas was this overwhelming. 

"Very well," he murmured against her lips and began a lazy, seductive kiss on them. "Then we shall eat. Soon." His hand moved up to the back of her head and pulled her in for a deeper and more passionate kiss. Irulan felt her entire being melting with that kiss and her arms released their position to glide around his neck for an embrace. It was all the encouragement Legolas needed. He did not break their contact while his hands glided to her thighs and with one strong pull she was relocated to sit closer to him. 

"Will you give me a Vienna tour as well?" Irulan panted when she managed to break off. 

"Some other time," he whispered with impatience, clasping his mouth over hers again. 

"Today!" she whined, ceasing the contact once more. 

"We can come back next week!" was his slightly frustrated reply. Irulan gave him an exaggerated look of disappointment. Actually at the moment it was hard to do so, for Legolas was more than fabulous with that expression of pure desire on his face. His normally fair skin had gained a pinkish hue and the dark blue of his eyes looked very alluring. 

"Please," she pouted and swept her fingers over his temple, over the rim of his ears, which remained a sensitive spot for the elves, even though the shape was nothing like the original, anymore. 

He growled with the effect, before his hands glided over her knees, arcing to her inner thighs, making Irulan gasp involuntarily. "As you wish," he said with a low voice and grasped her waist. "But," he added a moment later, "you should not have pouted, Irulan." 

He moved with his usual speed and dived forward, ending up with Irulan locked underneath him on the bed. She laughed despite herself, feeling like a little child who is lifted and rolled with evident ease. Legolas shifted to lie more comfortably on her and held her gaze as Irulan grinned with pure mischief. "Punish me then," was her low and amused statement, accompanied with the raising of a single eyebrow. 

Pure lust fanned out from the elf, bouncing through her and involuntarily her fingers dug softly into his shoulders at the unexpectedness of it. A reddish color slowly spread on her face, along with the heat of passion. "Oh I will," groaned Legolas, allowing himself a feral grin. "I will, my love." She breathed with excitement as he slowly nuzzled her neck and leaned in towards her ear to whisper. "You can scream all you want, Irulan." 

Her eyes shut at the gentle bite on her earlobe, followed by the nibbling that just made her so damn weak in the knees. She moaned a deep, guttural moan despite herself and, for the rest of the morning, forgot all about her hunger and Vienna.

***

When they entered the lobby later on, the decor that had been there for the Carnival still held, but seemed not nearly as exotic in the daylight. Legolas, his arm secured around Irulan's waist, walked to the reception desk and Elisa's eyes sparked to life when she spotted him. True, Irulan's presence at his side was not a very nice sight, but no matter what, she simply could not help to admire this man. 

After a short conversation about last night and whether they enjoyed the service or not, he kindly requested airline tickets for the next day to London. The manager's face fell considerably at that, but she smiled nevertheless. "Your stay this time was rather short, Mr. Greenleaf," she said softly a moment later. 

He smiled a gorgeous smile, observing her disappointment. "I have business in England. However, I intend to return as soon as I am done there."

She nodded and pretended to go through some files to hide her excitement. "It will be a pleasure to see you again."

"One more thing, Elisa," the elf added then, "Can you also arrange transportation for Miss Irulan's car?"

"Certainly, sir. How fast would you like it delivered?"

"As fast as possible. That will probably be a couple of days."

She nodded. "The address?"

His smile broadened before he answered. "Same as mine, Elisa."

Try as she might, Elisa failed to hide her heartbreak at that and even Irulan, who had been standing aside silently saw it and felt sorry for her. The woman nodded in consent and Legolas fished out the car keys, placing them in her palm. To her utter surprise he gently enfolded her fingers over them and held his hand in that position until her eyes snapped up to meet his. "Thank you. For everything," he said with utter gentleness and thereby probably guaranteed another decade of infatuation on the woman's behalf. 

The day passed with moments of lazy tranquility along with gleeful excitement. Legolas constantly made future plans - where they would go and what they would do and whom she should most definitely meet and what she MUST taste and see and try. Her reaction varied from disbelief to bafflement, sometimes eyebrows raised in amusement, and in most cases, joy for the upcoming days and events. 

Many times Irulan silently observed him as he spoke or frowned in wordless calculation, and each time she was baffled anew by the discovery of how much she had misjudged him. The great dislike and disappointment she had felt for Legolas after their first meeting seemed very far-fetched at the moment. He was everything she had ever dreamed of! And more. 

He told her about Vienna, of course. Of the Ottoman Turks who had made it as far as the city gates and of their terrible power that had once swept across Europe, eager for world domination. About the times far, far before that - when only barbaric hordes roamed this part of the world. Then of the great artists and the times of music and Balls and dance. 

But underneath the solemn and mature creature that Legolas had been, lurked another elf. A childish and careless one. A man who would pull her in for a tight embrace at the most unexpected moments or drag her into a narrow street to kiss her senseless. A man who was neither afraid, nor ashamed to show his new found enthusiasm and who cared nothing if the reason was a 'mere' woman. Humans would think it foolish for someone of his age and experience to act the way he did. But elves once were joyful creatures. They had been beings of light, full with love for life and eager for sharing. Time had turned them bitter and reserved, yes, but in their deepest reserves, it was their nature to be positive and hopeful. 

And Legolas was swiftly returning to the elf that he had been, long before even Aragorn had existed. He had lived and survived on an island in harsh solitude all his life. For years and decades and centuries and millennia he had perhaps watched the waves lick the shore, the seasons hunt each other down, the life around him sprout, achieve full bloom, wither and die. Then one seemingly very ordinary day some other had arrived on his shore – someone untouched by him or anything he had known all this time. Someone who was eager to see his work and listen to his observations and endless dreams and share his world. It was true bliss!

Irulan loved Vienna. But she loved Legolas far more. And therefore remembered much less of the city and their tour than what she remembered of his touch and his kiss and his overwhelming aura of that day. There was simply no denying – he was obsessed with her and she was in constant need of him. He filled such a wide gap in her spirit that she often wondered in true honesty how on Earth she had lived with a hole as big as that until her current day. 

Soon they both lost interest in the city and the history and the attractions and hurried back to their hotel room where they could remain only with each other and closed to the rest of the world. In this sacred solitude they encircled one another in spirit and body, learning of each other greedily. They spoke about almost everything, then contemplated in deep silence, shared their memories or fears or childish fantasies. When words became insufficient and dull, their bodies spoke and they made love with the imperishable need, affection, passion and tender care they held for each other. So their conversation of words, silence, sighs, moans, whispers, kisses and words again stretched on as the sky dimmed and the stars spread on the dark canvas of the night that set on Vienna. 

"I love you," he whispered, out of breath after the incredible light and fire of their union died out enough to allow him speak. Though Legolas was an expert in the art of love, he had not experienced it with this sharpness and complete, unbelievable pleasure in all his long years. Never before, for instance, had he been breathless by the sheer excitement and the fabulous sensation of the afterglow. 

Irulan did not open her eyes. She suspected that she was not capable of ANY movement at the moment. Her fingers remained dug into his skin and she wasn't even capable of releasing them. If her body did not do it automatically, she was certain that she wouldn't be breathing. 

She felt him sink back onto her, laying his cheek on her shoulder. Elves did not sweat, but unfortunately humans did and her sweat alone was enough to cover both of them. She swallowed hard to soften the dryness in her throat and returned to the task of breathing. Only after many moments did she manage to unclamp her fingers and run her shaking hands to his head, gently grasping his hair. He moaned softly in response, but did not move other than that. 

"I.......love you......too," she managed to wheeze out as the pleasure fanned out of her and slowly ebbed away, replaced by a peaceful tiredness. Irulan was certain that it was not her own pleasure alone that she was perceiving so vividly. Though that would be enough to take her breath away, this one coming from Legolas, was almost lethal in its intensity. 

He turned his head a moment later and placed his other cheek on the exact location. When he spoke this time, she could feel the movement of his lips against her throat. "Never have I loved anyone like this. I fear it."

Her eyes opened then, and she swallowed once more before she found the whisper to continue: "What do you fear?"

A moment passed and the only sound in the room was their harsh breathing. "Its absence." The terror in his voice was evident even under the current circumstances. 

Irulan did not answer, but embraced his shoulders with one hand, combing the other one through his hair. He grew very silent at that and she gently continued the action, satisfied that it brought him relief and peace. A long while passed and neither spoke. "No one has done that to me for thousands of years," he said finally, his voice far calmer and renewed in strength. "No one other than my mother." Her hand froze then, surprised by that statement. Another moment passed as she remained immobile and hesitant how to reply. "Don't stop," came finally the pleading whisper and after another gap of indecisiveness, she raised her hand to his hair again, slowly continuing the action. 

Legolas sighed in satisfaction, then shifted slightly to lie more comfortable against her. Once again, she was amazed how light he was and how comfortable his weight felt upon her. She felt his lips on her throat again, this time in the open and repeated act of slow kissing mixed with licking and very gentle nipping on the same spot. 

Another silence came, but it was welcome and warm. "What will others think of this?" she said finally. 

It took him several moments to answer. "Does it matter?"

"Not really. Still.....in a way......I mean you are a high member of the Circle. And well.....I am Aragorn's kin....."

"As always....everyone will think anything. Some will support it. Others won't. Some will envy. Some will ignore. Some will pretend it never happened and others will pull it out in every possible occasion. I do not care." Irulan thought about that when he suddenly added: "Neither did Aragorn."

Her hand froze to that once more and the elf slowly pulled himself up, placing his forearms on both sides of her head, gazing down at her. "And look what great thing came from it," he whispered, his eyes unusually intense as they swept over her features, great fascination in them. 

Suddenly the recollection of their Sharing floated up to her. A broken smile crept up to her lips. "Were you.....did you envy them?"

"Every single moment of every single day," he whispered, not looking away from her. She felt like he was burning her by his mere look and she could not break his gaze. "Little did I know that what they had would some day bring me my own great happiness." He kissed her again, this time slower and gentler, licking and tasting her lips. 

"Tomorrow this will all end," she sighed finally. 

He drew back and gave her a long look. "Tomorrow something better will begin," he whispered with pleasure.  

Irulan ran her hand through his hair. He shifted and once again, in a rather fluid and graceful fashion, reversed their positions, pulling the cover over her back and smoothing it out so that it would cover her completely. Irulan moved a little to place her legs on either side of him and her head on his chest while he folded her into a tender embrace. "It was such a wonderful trip," she murmured, already feeling the tiredness taking hold of her mind. "Of body and spirit."

Legolas smiled as he felt her breathing gaining a softer edge and her muscles relaxing against him. He continued his caress of her back and kissed her head while she drifted off towards the land of dreams. He chose to remain awake – for no dream could be better than this.

***

He kept perfectly still and silent, sitting erect and alert. Nonetheless, Aragorn spoke without opening his eyes: "How long have you been waiting, my friend?"

Legolas smiled then, the agony of watching the king's figure for the last hours giving in to a small glimmer of hope. "Too long. You sleep too much, Estel."

Aragorn cracked an eye open and the elf raised his chin, meeting his gaze. Though he had witnessed it many times, it surprised him how these blue eyes remained completely unaffected and uncaring about the rest of the body, and lost nothing of their youth. 'He has the eyes of an elf,' he thought and was momentarily baffled by that strange discovery. 

"Perhaps I was only testing your patience, Legolas," rumbled the king, making an effort to sit up. 

In a flash the elf was up from his chair and gathered the pillows on the bed, placing them behind him. He could have made the man's effort much easier by aiding him, but that would be an insult to the king, who hated such assistance. So he remained standing until the other let out a breath of relief and sat back on the cushions. 

A moment of silence passed between them and it was a missed, wanted silence of a leisure and comfortable conversation. It was the polite thing to do, so the elf fixed his gaze on the window and watched the sway of the distant flags while his friend gained his breath and woke further from his heavy slumber. "What news of the world?" was the final, rasping question. 

Only then did Legolas meet his eyes and gave him a long, apprehensive look, accompanied by an amused smile. "You are king of Gondor. You know more than I do."

Aragorn uttered a chuckle that ended with a long sigh. "I know of politics and trade and warfare. I know nothing of the world!" His blue eyes glazed slightly as he continued, almost inaudibly: "What of the green pastures? The sharp cliffs of mountains? What of the wild, Legolas?" The elf remained silent and allowed him his trance. "How I missed the sunset in the open!" whispered Aragorn as the fingers of his right hand unconsciously caressed his sheet. "And the chilly dew that gathered on my mattress when I woke to a new morning. I miss the smell of harness." A short laughter that sounded too much like coughing followed. "Ah.....I guess what they say is true - I am ranger first and king second. Always have been and always will be."

Legolas swallowed and replied the smile that had bloomed on his friend's face in the same fashion. "You are lucky for you have tasted both," he said gently.

Aragorn nodded in silence and kept the wordless pause for another string of minutes. "My time has come, Legolas," he said suddenly and despite having expected this sort of conversation of course, the elf failed to remain inexpressive to that. Thankfully Aragorn had the same maturity and manners and pretended to overlook it. "This is goodbye."

It took a lot of effort not to tremble at those words. Legolas pursed his lips and focused on his hands that were resting on his knees. He let the fire tear through him and spread out until the sizzles died away. That dreadful, terrible pain was here once more. The pain of parting. Along with him came the equally strong frustration and hate - familiar sentiments that he had always tasted in his affairs with mortals. The stupid, unreasonable anger at their death - as if it was their own doing. In a way, this one was. "Why not stay, Estel?" he managed to whisper after an incredibly long time. 

He did not look up and heard the king take a deep, tired sigh. Legolas knew that this was by far not the first time this conversation was taking place between them, and the Valar be his witness, he had been determined not to bring it up again this day. But under the pressure of his current sentiments, he gave in to the temptation once more. "I am what I am," was the slow reply. It almost sounded as if Aragorn was talking to a little child - though the opposite would be more acceptable. "Death to me is as natural as it is unnatural to you, dear friend."

"Your work here is not done yet!" he snapped despite himself and locked his furious gaze with the old man. "You have much service to offer to Middle Earth. My kind is leaving, Estel. You shared this worry with me. And yet you, too, choose to leave!" 

Aragorn said nothing and held the elf's fiery looks easily. The reply in his eyes was gentle and calm, and drowned the flames in the other's orbs like cool water would still fire. After several minutes Legolas felt both ashamed and angry at his lack of control, and returned to his observation of his hands. 

"I am tired, Legolas," was the wheeze of a reply. "Duties will never end. Work will never be completed. The road calls on...but my feet simply can answer no more."

The distant sound of the city along with his harsh breathing filled his ears as Legolas battled himself, not moving a muscle. When his eyes glided up again, over his whitened hair and his wrinkled skin and his thin, aged, weak figure, they were the calm eyes of an elf again. "Forgive me," he said, his tone soft. "Again, I have shown haste." He forced a smile onto his lips. "And again, you have shown patience."

To his surprise, the king grinned to that. "Such is the way of our kinds," he mocked, adding a laughter. This time, it did not turn into a coughing fit and therefore brightened the elf's smile further. 

Aragorn sighed in satisfaction and leaned back further, his eyes gliding to the ceiling. "It was a good life."

"Yes," was the soft reply. 

"Where does your road take you from here, Legolas?"

He hesitated for a moment. "I do not know," he admitted finally, gazing out of the window once more. He saw Aragorn's face turn to him from the corner of his eye but could not meet his gaze for another minute. When he finally did, blue locked into blue and strengths of different kinds collided. "Tell me to stay, and I will, Estel," he whispered. 

Even the king's breathing stopped at that and there was utter silence for a moment. Heavy, intense silence. A blanket that muffled the many, many unspoken words which flew around in the room, buzzing between them. "I can never ask you for such a thing," was the slow response and embedded itself deep between them. 

"Yes you can," Legolas said with fixed determination. "If anyone, YOU can."

"No Legolas I-"

"Aragorn!" he cut in with impatience, waving his arm in a single graceful, dismissive arc. "Tell me your heart's desire." The man shifted with discomfort in his bed, his blue eyes blank, his lips pressed into a thin line and for the first time his expression hard. It was a mask he had often used in the past and the elf was familiar enough with it to know that it aided him to hide his emotions. "Tell me what you wish then, not what you want. If this is our last hour, I deserve to know."

They glared at each other so long that an outsider would think them frozen in pose. The room stank of desperation. Of curse to old age and time. Of unfulfilled wishes and future hopes. Of anger, love and helplessness. "What do you wish to hear?" hissed Aragorn finally, his demeanor cold and angry. "What do you wish to hear, Legolas? Do you wish to hear that in my weakness, I long for you to stay? That I am selfish enough to want you to remain while all your kind is leaving for good?" His whisper rose and gained a sharp, frosty tone as he continued, his blue eyes blazing fire to the elf sitting across his bed. "That underneath all my justice, nobility, maturity lies a man that fears and frets for his kind - enough to sacrifice his best friend for its sake?! Is that what you wish to hear?!" 

The king's voice rang through the confined room and it sounded nothing like the voice of an old man. Any other would flinch and fear. But not Legolas. His expression said nothing. His heart said the world. "Yes!" he hissed after the echo had died out and a tense silence had arrived. Aragorn's eyes widened with the surprise and the elf continued, looking more menacing than afraid: "Yes! THAT's what I want to hear!" The man just stared into the eyes of this creature, suddenly baffled by the slow intensity building up there. He knew well enough of the patience and gentleness of elves. As well as he knew how deep their fury could run. "I want to hear that I am needed!" The last part came out surprisingly loud and both men stilled momentarily, both surprised by the tone and the meaning of that statement. 

Legolas broke his gaze in frustration as his friend just stared at him with silent patience. His fingers unconsciously rolled into fists, digging into his knees. A distant part of him scolded him for doing all the things he had decided NOT to do this day. That distant part remained distant. "I want to be needed," he said, this time far softer, laced with a sad edge. "I want to be good and useful for something." He received no answer and sighed in defeat. "What would you like me do, Aragorn? Shall I go to Valinor and forget this world?" The thought that this was exactly what the rest of his kin was doing crossed Aragorn's mind, but even under torture would he not say something so bitter. So he continued being surprised and watchful. "Shall I sail to leave valor, glory and good deeds behind for the sake of endless years doing....nothing?!" 

He locked eyes with the ranger than and the other man blinked, sitting slightly up. Good thing that Legolas could not read his mind. He would have discovered amusement at his own uniqueness amongst elves. "We did many things together," he said with a low voice, almost with urgency. The reply was a slow nod. "We CHANGED together. How can I go back on that now? How can I undo what I have become?!" A momentary pause. "I am a stranger to elf and Man alike, now."

That last sad murmur made the man in the bed stir and shift to sit up further. This time Legolas met his gaze and Aragorn felt relief at the fact that instead of sorrow and desperation, there shone rebellion and fury. "That makes you friend to both, Legolas," he said gently. "Like me."

A pleasantly surprised Legolas pushed up his chin and a long time later a smile bloomed on his lips. It was a wonderful smile - it spoke of love, admiration, comfort, hope and sorrow alike. No words were exchanged as time froze and lost its meaning in the room where it meant so different things to its inhabitants. Finally the king offered his hand and Legolas rose from his chair to take it, grasping his wrist. Their eyes locked and the ranger pulled him to sit on the edge of his bed. Many times Legolas had parted from friends and family. None had hurt him more than this one. The urge to suppress his tears was solely for the sake to spare his friend the pain and sorrow. "Stay then," rasped the man finally. Merely minutes had passed. But it had been enough to change two men forever. "Stay, Legolas."

He nodded in approval, bringing up his other hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as another urge to cry hit him. When he looked up Estel was shedding the very tears he was trying so dearly to avoid and Legolas almost laughed out with the envy and adoration he felt for this man. No other would feel so comfortable in crying. "Your kind is foolish, Estel. They need guidance, no doubt," he said, feeling oddly relieved, although he should feel even worse. 

Perhaps because Aragorn had a way of lifting his spirits with small gestures alone. Just like the grin that was spreading on his face at that very moment, for instance. "I can only say that I do not envy you in that task, Legolas." He grinned wider, revealing his teeth and despite all, Legolas began to chuckle. Soon Aragorn joined him, adding his coughing to the laughter and the elf shook his head, refraining from patting the king's back - out of deep respect and sheer politeness.

*** 

She woke up to a feeling of loss. Her eyelids fluttered open and to her surprise, it was still dark. Once again, it took her a while for orientation. The memory floated up to her gently and with evident warmth. Like the warmth of the sun on a block of stone long after dusk. Or the warmth of the ocean long after summer's heat. 

Then she frowned with the realization of the lacking warmth beside her. It was enough to make her stir and slowly sit up, looking around drowsily. The chamber was only partly illuminated by the leftover carnival lights and the moon. Legolas was not there. It was somewhat cooler. 

She took the blanket and wrapping it on her shoulders, slowly tiptoed so that she would not run into anything. It was even chillier in the living room section. And she understood the reason – the door to the terrace was left agape. She walked towards it and saw him standing by the rail, his black cotton pants on, his upper half naked. His back was turned to her and the moonlight was glimmering on his exclusive skin. He seemed to be in deep thought, but spoke up softly without turning around as soon as she arrived: 

"Why did you wake?" 

She pushed the door open and stepped out. Her feet ached with the cold of the stones in the chilly night, but she just wrapped her blanket tighter and stepped up to him. "I don't know. I.....felt your absence. Why are you out here?"

He turned to her then, a fabulous smile on his face. "Come here," was his gentle command. Irulan obeyed and stood right before him, enwrapped in her blanket, looking up. The gust slowly played with his silver-blonde hair and his face looked as if it was carved of marble. He looked at her a long moment before he took hold of the blanket around her and pulled her closer. He kissed her cheeks and her neckline with utter tenderness. "You might get ill out here," he whispered into her ear and embraced her a little tighter. 

Irulan could not embrace him, since her blanket would fall off, so instead she leaned into his embrace. "I am fine," she mumbled into his chest.

He exhaled a long breath and looked out to Vienna again. Yes.....it felt good to bow to someone mightier than yourself. It was wise to accept the truth. And it was only fitting to know when your world was meant to change. Too long had he waited for this to happen. Longer than most. The stars had moved on, the world had changed, rivers had dried, forests had died and yet he had waited. Nations were born and nations had died, decades had glided into centuries and centuries had dissolved into millennia, and Legolas had waited. On and on and on....until he had forgotten his wait and lost the hope for another. 

But...life had not forgotten him. Neither had fate. For here he was, in a room in Vienna, and she was with him. And Heaven knows that it had been worth the wait! 

"Let us stay, Irulan," he said suddenly and she stirred awake at that. "Let us not go back. We don't need to. We can just continue until we grow bored and tired."

She lifted her head to lock eyes with him, heavy disbelief on her face. "Are you serious?"

"I am," he said solemnly. "Nothing holds us back. Let us be careless. And free. And just....live."

She exhaled softly and placed her chin on his bare chest, continuing to look at his face while his fingers gently combed her hair back. "What of Cate and Jonathan?"

"Haldir can take my place. Anne can take yours. The Council will accept their votes as ours."

"I have to be there, Legolas," she sighed then. "I owe it to Cate and Jonathan. I have been their friend for so long...I cannot leave them on a day like this." She locked eyes with him again. "I just can't."

He nodded in a frustrated manner. "I understand. It is the right thing to do." His arms embraced her again and pulled her closer as Irulan placed her cheek on his chest once more. "Or so I hope," he whispered, his eyes glued to the waking new day in the horizon. A strange, dark anxiety had touched his spirit and the fingerprints of it refused to disappear despite her warmth or the sight of a new day. "So I hope."

***


	18. End of Summer, Beginning of Fall

"Do you have any nails left at all?" 

Irulan moaned and shifted on her seat. "I don't like flying!"

"I can see that," he said with a grin. She glared at him in an evil manner and he grasped her hand, entwining his fingers with hers before lifting it up for a deep kiss. "Only an hour left."

"An hour?!" squeaked Irulan with frustration. 

"All right...then perhaps I can tell you a little of my home?" he said gently, in an attempt to divert her thoughts. 

"Though I'm sure it's interesting, the history of your castle is, at this point, not my main concern," was the dry reply. 

He grinned slyly. "No, Irulan. My HOME," he said softly. She held a blank look for a moment, then blinked and turned slightly towards him.

"You mean...which one do you mean?"

"The one and only," was his lofty response. "The mighty forest of ages past."

Her eyes widened with excitement and the elf had to bite on his tongue to keep from laughing out loud. "Will you really?"

"With pleasure," he growled and kissed her cheek. 

"All right then," she said, almost jumping like a little child. She shifted to sit more comfortable, never letting go of his hand, and looked up in expectance. "Can I ask questions?"

"Of course. Ask away," laughed Legolas, very amused by her curiosity in the matter. 

"Were there really giant spiders in Mirkwood?"

He just looked at her with open surprise, then began to laugh softly. She observed his glee for several moments, feeling the concentration of others focusing on them with the sound echoing in the plane. "What is so funny?" she said, grinning despite herself. 

"Out of all questions, THAT is your first one?" he chuckled, kissing her heartily on the cheek again.

"Well," she said, blushing a little, and scratching her head while his soft laughter continued. "Well...I mean...it just seems...oh whatever! Will you answer or not?"

"I sure will," he said, shaking his head. "There were quite many."

Another effort to suppress a grin was exercised when Irulan wiggled in her seat with evident excitement for a moment or two. "All right. Question two: How big were they?"

Legolas frowned, pretending to think as she watched him with suppressed impatience and excitement. "They ranged from...well I would say the size of an ox to the size of an elephant."

"Oh my God!" She clasped her hand over her mouth and hastily glanced around as the elf bit his cheeks in an attempt to overcome his desire for laughter. The fact that Irulan could switch from wise and mature woman to gleeful and naive child, and not feel uncomfortable or silly during the process, was simply incredible to him. "All right, all right!" she hissed – probably to herself, since there was no one else to scold here so. "Elephant?!" she said then, locking eyes with him. He nodded gravely. "Did they come out at day or night?"

"Is this conversation going to be about Mirkwood or the giant spiders?" he asked with mock scolding. 

But she would have none of it. "Both! But...one after the other, Legolas! Don't rush ahead like that!" He pursed his lips, but the smile bloomed on his visage anyway. "Let us clear up this spider issue first!" Irulan whispered with excitement and shifted further to sit comfortably. That was it! He simply could not help laughing again, the joy of his heart getting stronger with every hour he spent in her presence. 

The rest of the flight she asked hundreds of relevant and irrelevant, silly and serious, eccentric and expected questions and the elf answered all with patience and understanding. Time flew by so fast that Irulan groaned in disappointment when the landing was announced. He smiled as Irulan braced herself, digging her fingers into his hand for the landing. Legolas glanced out of the window, into a dull autumn day in England, adorned with a slight drizzle. That dark feeling threatened to brush against his mind once more, so he chose to turn away from the view, focusing on her and pushing everything else away. 

But the feeling refused to drown. No matter how many times he tossed it into the ocean of disinterest, it continued to wash onto his shore, ugly and dark on his perfectly pale beach. It was there when they found the driver and the car waiting for them (Legolas –nowhere near eager to return to the castle- had decided to call for a car instead of his private chopper that would have taken them to their destination in less than half an hour). It was there when he glided in after Irulan, resuming his hold on her hand. And it would not leave even after they rolled into motion and began the journey home.

They rode for a long time in silence. He kept his caress of her hand, looking out of the window that was marked with the rain now. 'England,' she thought, as the green pastures replaced the city streets. 'How different is it from the first time I have arrived here, only days ago!' Unconsciously she took a deep breath, her thoughts lingering on how strange the human mind was – here she was, with nothing but experience and time in between, and yet for her, the whole world had changed. 

"Irulan," he said suddenly, breaking the thick silence. She turned to him with surprise and found his blue eyes. If she did not know better, she would think that Legolas looked anxious. Or even worried. "Your pledge is no more." Irulan, for a moment completely clueless, just stared back in confusion. "You have paid your debt graciously." 

To be honest, she had forgotten completely about the pledge! The last couple of days between them had passed without the slightest indication or mention of it. Slowly she shifted on her seat, turning to him. "But it has been merely days," she said. 

Legolas smiled. "Time means nothing to me. You have fulfilled your part in this with utmost success. And I release you from it this minute." 

He brought up her hand and closed his eyes to place a deep and long kiss on her palm. Again...the worry. And the strange sadness. It was very, very subtle, but Irulan felt it anyway. "Is something wrong, Legolas?" 

He did not answer right away. The distant, irritating prodding on his mind would not let go and Legolas was too experienced an elf to ignore it. He tried to convince himself that it was the disappointment of the return. Of the end of their time together. Or even of the fact that instead of another city in Europe with Irulan, a most unnerving council meeting was awaiting him. But the itch responded to neither and refused to weaken. He sighed and glanced out the window once more. "Whatever happens," he said then, almost inaudibly and then suddenly turned to lock eyes with a surprised Irulan, "NEVER forget that I love you." 

"O-of course," she stammered, intimidated and very confused by his intensity and his secrecy. "But...what might happen?" was the nervous question. 

"Who knows?" he whispered and reached out to gently comb away the stray hairs from her face. 

She bit her lip and waited for a moment. "Are you concerned about the meeting?" 

He smiled and shook his head. "Nay. We shall convince them." With that he placed another kiss on her hand. Irulan stared at him with surprise. 'We?' she thought, baffled. 

"Does that mean..." 

"I will vote in favor, of course," he said with a killer smile. 

The woman remained still for several moments with surprise, then took a deep, slow breath. It was a very unexpected thing to hear at the moment. And the meaning of that was even more unexpected. But Legolas had a way of diving into these grave matters so bluntly. The relief and elation that came with that statement washed away the worry she was feeling about his strange behavior. "But...are you certain, Legolas?" she said then, and clasped her other hand on his. 

"Very much so," he whispered. 

Irulan bit her lower lip and hesitated before she continued: "Is it because...I don't want you to do it because…of what we spoke before the trip. You don't need to feel like…"

"No," he intervened gently and Irulan looked up at his gentle gaze. His fingers caressed the back of her hand as he remained silent for a while. Finally he sighed. "Yes, you have convinced me. But not so much about the things we spoke of on the terrace that night, concerning your and my kind." He leaned in closer, a fantastic smile on his face, "You convinced me that true love justifies everything." A moment of silence passed. "I voted against it at all times in the past. I know now that the reason was…because I never understood it fully. Even though I am an elf. Even though I have felt much and observed more." Legolas sighed with bitter amusement and kissed her hand. "It was a mistake to count the vote of a man who has never been in love before. I will tell of this to the Council."

"I don't think Michael will like that," she said a long while later, mainly to say something to dilute the dense atmosphere. "I doubt that he is even CAPABLE of love!"

He grinned at that, and kissed her hand again. "Then we should re-evaluate his contribution to the case," he said deviously. "Take your place in the Circle, and together we shall bring a new order," he whispered, his eyes boring into her. 

"Tell will resent us," she said, breaking into a grin. 

"Ah...I would not want it any other way," was the sly response. 

He caressed her cheek before he leaned in and kissed her. It was a gentle kiss, tender like a sweet touch at first, but soon became more passionate and before long, gained an edge of desperation and need that once again placed worry into her heart. Legolas pulled her to himself and kissed her as if he would never kiss her again. She embraced him and kissed him back with equal fervor, losing herself in the sensation. 

"Legolas," she whispered when he began to place urgent, warm kisses on her cheeks and her throat, "tell me what is bothering you. You seem worried." 

He sighed and backed away a little, cupping her face and kissing her again. "I fear that they will hurt you," was his quiet and alarmed reply. 

Irulan gave him an amazed look. "Why would they do that?" she whispered in awe. 

He cast his gaze down and held her hand again, continuing the caress absent-mindedly. "The ways of man do not always have valid reasons," was his murmur. Many moments passed before he found the strength to meet her gaze. "They fear you," he said cautiously. "They fear what you will become." 

Irulan looked out from the window, lost in thought for a minute or two. True...except for very few, the human members of the Circle had never been too fond of her. And God knows Michael and Elizabeth disliked her! But...fear her? She could not imagine why that would be. She was not a mighty person. Not cunning, smart or powerful. As a matter of fact, she was lacking serious skills of intrigue and unless something was told right to her face, Irulan could hardly read obvious messages, let alone underlying ones. Why would they fear someone like her? 

"Should we keep us a secret?" she said, finding his eyes once more. 

Legolas exhaled in frustration. A moment passed while he remained in deep thought. "I will speak to them," he said finally, "and tell only what they need to know." She nodded with somewhat unease. He pulled her closer and kissed her again. The castle appeared on its hill in the distance as he childishly hoped to drown the dark foreboding in him with the taste of her lips. 

***

"Ah...once again the line of Kings has stirred the world!" 

Irulan snorted with mock anger, but could not help laughing right afterwards.

"Lately I have been called that too many times, Analoth!" 

"Not enough yet, my friend," he said gently and turned to her. His short, black hair stood in soft waves, framing his strong and handsome features and his slightly slanted eyes. The glow of his elven skin seemed stronger today. Or perhaps it was just her imagination. Analoth's beauty and overall air always used to startle her and put her in awe. However, after having seen so many of his kind in these past few days, he was not the phenomenal sight he used to be, anymore. The admiration for his kind was gone, and replaced with the admiration for a friend. 

Cate, who stood pale as a porcelain doll with long, light brown hair and big, beautiful grass green eyes that immediately caught attention, smiled as well. Slender and graceful as always, she had aged and matured into a lovely woman. A few more years, and no doubt she would begin to look older than him. "Irulan!" she said, and smiled brighter, releasing her arm from his to give the approaching woman a warm embrace, "So wonderful to see a friendly face here! I cannot tell you what this means to us." She gave her an overall look, then smiled once more, her eyes full with sparks. "We have heard of your 'trip'. You must tell us all!" 

The other just grinned back, the joy in her heart folding on itself and doubling by the hour. Everything was perfect! She had Legolas. She was surrounded by her friends. She was at the dawn of a new and wonderful life. What more could any person ask for? "I will tell it all," she chuckled, shifting slightly and giving the castle a glance over the shoulder, "But we have a meeting to conquer first!" 

Cate smiled at her with perfect love in her eyes. "We do not know how to thank you," was her quiet statement, slow and tender. "We know how you prefer abstinence to all...this." Her eyes momentarily rose to the castle as if she meant to include everything in there, from elves to humans, from duty to responsibilities. "...and yet you have come. For us." 

Irulan waved her hand dismissively and rolled her eyes. A pinkish hue hit her cheeks, despite her best efforts. "Please!" she moaned, embarrassed and self-conscious. "You would have done the same for me." 

A smile crept on the faces of both women and the man in perfect unison and though not spoken out loud, the words that flew through their minds found their way into hers. 'Perhaps we will, some day, my friend,' those words echoed and Irulan grew even more anxious, biting her lower lip and looking down to her boots. Neither Cate, nor Analoth were members of the Circle and therefore they would never get to vote in such a matter, of course. But that did not change the fact that her mysterious trip was receiving interesting evaluation by all. 

"Well...Anne is waiting for me. I'd better not be late," she laughed nervously, throwing her hair over her shoulder. 

The couple said nothing and nodded, still smiling. Thinking that Cate was oddly half-elven already, she walked away, digging her hands into the pockets of her jeans. Again it had rained and again the lawn was muddy. Therefore she kept on the little path plastered with chisel as her thoughts drifted once again to the future. Involuntarily her gaze crept up the castle. It was strange to think of it as 'home'. Irulan tried to imagine herself waking up in this place, having breakfast, strolling in the nearby forest, falling asleep on an armchair facing the fire. She sighed, taking in the cool and crisp air. No busy honking dwindling up from the streets. No small, cozy, crowded apartment. No Starbucks. No rush through the avenues that carried people of all ages and all races. 

Was that a good thing? 

She cast her gaze down and tried to push the negativity that came with that question out of her head. It was a big step, yes. It was drastic. And she would never have taken it with any other. There had been times in her life when she was asked for such sacrifices and always she had declined. For the mere reason that she had never trusted anyone as much as she trusted Legolas. True, she had never loved anyone as much either. But the real reason had been trust....such a fragile, tender, delicate thing it was. A luxury reserved only to so few in the world. There were times when she believed it to be more important than love itself. Yes, love was grand. It was mind-blowing and blinding. It was the earthquake that shook continents and drowned some, only to rise others into the sunlight. However...after all that tremble had passed and the sizzling fire had died, it was trust and sacrifice that built another city, another empire. 

'I trust Legolas,' she thought, finding strength in that thought. It was more important than the fact that she loved him. Even more important than the fact that he loved her. Love was a dangerous blade with double edges. It did not mean that one would act right and sane. On the contrary, often it clouded the perception and was the cause for dear mistakes. Love was essential, but not enough. She trusted this man. Legolas would never deceive her. Never lie to her. Never mislead her. Any other man who loved her with the same fervor could do any of these - solely to keep her or to be with her. But not Legolas. 'Yes...it is a wise choice to be with him,' she thought again and sighed. Her eyes traveled up and met the figure of an excited Anne who was running to meet her. Irulan smiled with amusement. Though they had met and embraced about two hundred times this morning, by the looks of it, another mighty embrace was on its way towards her. 

***

"You will stay in ENGLAND?!" 

She sighed and squinted her eyes to look into the distance, letting the silence settle in for a minute. "I will still come and visit," she mumbled, "and you can come here, too!" She did not meet her friend's eyes but she really did not have to. The disappointment pulsing out of her was evident anyway. 

A long silence set in. "This is...very unlike you," Anne managed to say finally. 

Irulan pursed her lips and nodded, inspecting the mug in her hand. "I know," was her quiet reply. "But...Legolas won't have it any other way." She halted at her own words, and met the surprised gaze of the other woman, an equal astonishment on her own features. "That's not what I meant!" she said hastily. "It's not like he is forcing me or anything!" 

Anne crossed her arms on her chest and leaned back on her chair. Irulan almost laughed out - she was doing that unnerving thing again! "Maybe that's not what you meant, but it's what you said, Irulan." 

"I used the wrong words," moaned Irulan, taking a sip from her coffee. "I can work if I want to. I can stay in New York. He said he will come and join me there." 

"Don't you think that's better for the beginning? I mean...this is so drastic. You will leave everything behind. EVERYTHING." 

Irulan chuckled, giving her a narrow look. "Is it me or did we change roles? You always used to urge me towards boldness and I was always the cautious one." 

The blonde woman huffed and sat back, crossing her legs. "I'm not saying that you shouldn't be with him! It's just...I mean it's been only a few DAYS! This is TOO bold." Again she remained silent. Finally Anne shifted and leaned in, placing her elbows on her knees and moving closer. "Irulan...I love elves. God knows they are incredible creatures! And I can not imagine anyone superior to Legolas." 

Irulan turned her head and met her green gaze. "But?" 

"But," sighed Anne, her expression solemn, "Well, let me put it this way...often we forget them to be elves and begin to think of them as humans." Her eyes remained fixed on Irulan who raised her eyebrows to urge her to continue. "I mean...they are powerful creatures. Their strength comes with a certain...I don't know...danger." 

"What on earth are you talking about?" 

Anne moaned and scratched her head, looking away for a moment. "I will be very direct. Lord Legolas has manipulated all humanity for centuries. What makes you think that he will not manipulate you?" 

Irulan just stared back at her, completely speechless as the blonde woman returned the look. A long silence issued between them as their eyes locked in the fashion they had locked dozens of times before. Anne and Irulan had an incredible friendship - many things had rattled it, but none had broken it. Instead, it had grown stronger with those slight stirrings. "Why would he manipulate me?" she managed to say finally. The warmth of the coffee dwindled up to her face, but Irulan was not aware of it. 

"Because that's what they do, Irulan." 

"Anne...I mean..." Irulan took a deep breath and sat up, herself. She could not help but feel a slight anger. And well...was that fear that fluttered in her heart? She stuffed the idea away and fixed her eyes on her friend once more. "I don't understand you! You act like them, I swear! One moment all you want me to do is to be with him, the next you give me these...horror stories! What DO you want?!" 

"I want you to be with him," Anne said slowly, unaffected by the burst of anger, "but as yourself, Irulan. Without losing your head. Without forgetting what he is." She pursed her lips in lack of reply, the words sinking into her mind. "You said he loves you. I know that he would never lie about that. And I know that the love of an elf is a mighty thing. But Irulan..." with that she glanced around, almost as if afraid to be overheard by sensitive ears, "...all I'm saying is, a man – no, an ELF- who loves with such force will do many things in the name of that love. Thinking that it's for your own good. Or maybe convincing HIMSELF that it is so, when maybe it's only for his own good." 

For no apparent reason an uneasiness crept into her mind and when she locked eyes with Anne again, the fury in them was gone. "Like what?" she whispered, unconsciously reverting to the mood of mystery, herself. 

"I don't know!" exclaimed Anne and made her jump with the sudden raised voice. Surprised herself, she hastily lowered it, "God knows he is capable of doing anything and everything he wants." 

"But...Legolas would never hurt me!" 

"Of course not!" groaned Anne, giving her an impatient look. "Not intentionally anyway. But...he will never completely understand you, Irulan. You are human. You are young. You are a woman. He is the complete opposite of all those. He will do everything for you. Everything that HE thinks is good for you. But will it really be good for you?!" 

Irulan sighed and placed her mug on the table. "All right. You are confusing me more and more. Just tell me what the hell you expect me to do!" 

Anne glanced at her as if she was an imbecile. Then did her usual thing - leaned back, crossed her arms on her chest and raised an eyebrow. "I expect you to be with him. But with caution. And always in charge of your own life, Irulan! YOU know what is good for you, better than anyone else does and YOU should make the decisions, no matter what the relationship between you two. At least you should have a say in it...an opinion." She sighed and grew a little softer, "I will kill you if you leave him. But I will kill you twice if you leave yourself! Don't let him manipulate you - even if it's with the best intentions in mind." 

"You are saying that I should not come to England," Irulan said slowly, the logic of her friend making more and more sense by the word. 

"I'm saying that you should only do so when YOU want to. Not when he wants you to." Irulan looked into the distance once more, thinking about that idea. "Let HIM adapt. Let HIM adjust to you. He has nothing to lose, Irulan." Irulan nodded slowly. "You said he is ready to do so." 

She nodded again. Legolas would not like that idea. But he would oblige. If she insisted and remained decisive enough. Anne had a point - he was very dominant and enforcing. This was no surprise - for someone who was millennia old and had made the grandest decisions in the name of humanity, having the last word in everything was a rather normal expectation. No doubt that he was not used to bending to the will of others. Legolas had had relationships before, she knew that. But she was certain that in those, too, he had always been the decision-maker and overpowering. It was his nature and his habit. And most probably better for the other party, as well. But then...even if it would end in disaster, Irulan would rather be her own master than live in safety and be under the say of another. Just like it was in his character to be the master, it was AGAINST her character to be the servant. 

She sighed. From the beginning of this trip she had drifted wherever he had pulled her. And sometimes those pulls had been rather rude and discomforting. Yes, in the end she had achieved something beautiful...something that excused all his former actions. But a small trip was nothing compared to a serious affair. Irulan could not let this become a habit for him. 

"You are right," she exhaled and met Anne's eyes again. 

The blonde woman merely nodded. "Let him come to New York. Live with him for a while. See how it works out. You can always make the decision to leave. But you cannot unmake it, Irulan." 

"I guess I will have to continue enduring my boss, after all," she moaned, rolling her eyes. Anne laughed, rolling her eyes as well. "Oh man," groaned Irulan, "it will be hard to adapt to that after seeing all that I have seen." 

"Speaking of which..." mused her friend, leaning in once more. 

Irulan chuckled, crossing her legs. "Ah....where to start? Paris? Rome? Vienna?" Irulan inspected the sky with mock indecisiveness. "Skip it all. I should start with Baeron." 

"Who?" 

Irulan grinned to the open curiosity on Anne's visage. "The wolf who lurks in Versailles." 

***

Legolas walked into the room and immediately felt the curiosity and the tenseness floating up to meet him. He wore a blank face, as did all the other present elves. Haldir, of course, had not told anyone and therefore the overpowering sentiment on the faces of the humans was amusement. Legolas realized that they were pleased, because they believed that she had lost. That she had fallen for his pretense. A sharp anger rose in him with that realization and simultaneously, a very grave shame. Anger because Irulan's failure gave them great satisfaction. Shame because HE himself had started this madness in the first place. 

He slowly walked to his usual seat at the table as everyone jumped to their feet in recognition of his presence. Here, he was high member of the Council and a warrior that had fought for humanity for thousands of years. Here he was a god and his word meant everything. He slightly nodded in return and all members slowly took their places. Today, all were present - including those that had been absent on their first unofficial meeting. 

Legolas allowed them a short time to take their seats as he remained standing and glanced each member in the eye before he spoke. "Honored members of the Circle...I welcome you all to my home. Thank you for answering my request and for being here today." All nodded gently. He sank into his chair then, his face a mask of nothing. "Our actual task will be tomorrow. But I trust that everyone here has been informed as to the reason for this particular meeting?" 

"We have heard of your 'test', my Lord," said an elf with short, dark brown hair. He wore a black suit with a black tie and was a new addition to the group - due to some problems in his businesses in Japan he had not made it earlier than the day before. "But I must admit...some of us are worried of what has pushed you to such caution. Has the line of the King failed us before?" 

"No," was the matter-of-fact reply. 

The other hesitated only for a moment before he pressed on. "You are not a man of haste, Legolas. What has forced you to such a deed?" 

Legolas waited for a moment as all attention was fixed on him. The silence in the room was incredible. "Perhaps I am not a man of haste. But lately I was too much a man of despair, Ednon," he said finally. If such a thing were possible, the silence in the room grew even deeper at that statement. 

The human members squirmed in their seats with curiosity about the test. But elves, of course, had a far different view of things. Often, what humans found trivial, they found incredibly important. Therefore, more than the result of the test, their concern was about the REASON for it. "Please continue," Ednon said softly, his brown eyes unreadable. 

Legolas gave himself another moment. A moment to shut off everyone else and open the chamber of his mind and his heart. When he spoke, his voice had expression - it was tired, bitter and sincere all at the same time: "They say we do not age," he began, his eyes fixed on the dark, glossy surface of the table. "What statement could be further from the truth?" He exhaled gently before he went on, "I have aged. More than any human ever could. The bitterness, loss of hope, tolerance and finally, the lack of reason for the continuance of my task in this world, knows no equal amongst mortals." 

He looked up and the fire in his blue gaze was foreign to most who sat there that day. Only a handful had seen that part of Legolas and all that had, were elves - because only a handful remembered the Prince from the Old Days. The rest remained surprised and alarmed at his seemingly over-expressive state. "I had aged into someone else. A man who saw no future for humanity. For the world...and for himself," he concluded, almost with a whisper. 

"Dear friend," echoed Maneth's beautiful voice, utterly gentle and kind, "why have you not shared your torment with us?" 

Legolas offered him a small, almost amused smile. "What would you have done, Maneth?" His smile grew broader. "Would you have taken me on a trip?" The other elf's dark eyebrows rose slowly in surprise while the blonde man continued, "Perhaps you would have come and resided with me for a while, to offer me your company as a solution? What could you have given me, that I had not?" Maneth crossed his arms and, with an equally amused expression, leaned back in his chair, bowing his head to the Prince. His manner said 'You win, dear Legolas!' The Prince shook his head, grinning broader. It was unusual of him to grin like that and it caused another wave of uneasiness amongst the human members, who always failed to read the elven sentiments and expressions. "None of you, dear Maneth, has the cure for my disease. But Irulan does." 

If not for his absolute control over his actions, he would certainly have laughed out loud at the open shock and confusion on the faces of Elizabeth and Irene. Michael, though, was almost as expressionless as an elf. Almost. "Please go on, my Lord," said Saelban then. 

Legolas sighed and did not release his amusement altogether, though his expression also regained a graver edge. "I will only say that I had lost the world and the world had lost me. It does not take much effort to understand such a state. Only a handful of us have been blessed with its absence in a lifetime." 

All elven members nodded once in understanding and a moment later the human members mimicked them - not so much in understanding but rather the willingness to pretend that they understood. "I know this now. I did not know my state as I stood before you the last time in this room." Legolas slightly leaned back then, giving the circle of men and women a long, apprehensive look. His right hand remained on the table as his pose spoke of both control and yet a relaxed state. "I am a lucky man, for Fate brought Irulan to me." 

"Lord Legolas," Elizabeth broke in, intimidated at speaking up so, and yet too curious to hold back, "please tell us of your test." 

Legolas offered her a small smile. "I have lost, of course," was the unnaturally smooth and matter-of-fact statement. 

The commotion that followed was a true amusement to the elf. He crossed his arms and exchanged glances with an equally pleased Haldir, who was observing the mortals at the table with silent curiosity. "But...what does that mean?" mumbled Elizabeth, her confusion very evident on her face now. 

Her voice was drowned out by Michael's: "Shall we assume that Irulan has showed resistance to your seduction?" His lips curled into a sly smile. "I find that hard to believe, my Lord." 

The elf's expression changed from amused to dangerous so fast, the smile on Michael's face froze and all other members ceased their swift talking as well. "And I find it hard to believe that you are questioning MY honesty, Michael," Legolas said coldly, his eyes two pieces of ice. 

"O-of course not," stammered the man, baffled by the change of the mood in the room. Everyone else remained dead silent, and Legolas continued to rip him apart with his gaze alone, so he continued, "I simply fail to imagine...ANY woman...to resist-" 

"Try harder," cut in Legolas and Michael swallowed softly at the tone of his voice. 

Everyone was too fixed on the Prince to see Haldir's small but fabulous smile at that. "Please explain a little further," the former Lothlorien ward intervened, to show mercy to a speechless Michael. 

"She is worthy of her line," said Legolas, giving Michael one last glare, then gazing around the Circle, once again making eye contact with each and all. "Estel's blood is strong in her. I have immense respect for her wisdom and I shall show it by voting in favor, tomorrow." 

The explosion of words, gasps and whispers after that was completely new to the Circle that was one of the most conservative groups one could imagine. Some froze to immobility, others exchanged heated whispers, still others blinked in confusion while a few grinned in victory. "Forgive me...Legolas," said Maneth finally, and most of the voices stilled when he spoke up, "but did I hear you right? You will vote in favor of Cate and Analoth's request?" 

"I will indeed," was the very pleased and lazy reply. 

"This is very unusual of you," was Saelban's comment, mild expression of wonder on his face. 

"True," sighed the Prince, leaning on the table, "it will be my first vote in favor. But...certainly not my last." 

Another turmoil broke out at that and this time Haldir could not help but chuckle, giving Legolas an almost mischievous look, to which the other replied with a sly smile. Several minutes later, when it became calmer in the room once more, another human member, Omar took the word, "Lord Legolas...it pleases me to see this change in you. I was hoping that some day you would come to understand our point of view." 

Legolas nodded, giving the African native a long look. "Your hope has found fruit. I am a changed man." 

The elves remained politely silent. None prodded for further details, knowing that the Prince had no obligation to tell them. He had engaged in a test and he had informed them about the outcome. Any other detail was none of the Council's business and they would never ask. Humans, on the other hand, had no such manners. "Your change is because of Irulan?" blurted Elizabeth. It was very much like her to say something like that and her rudeness was kindly overlooked by all Firstborns present. 

"Indeed," said Legolas and waited a moment before he nudged the last mine on the field. "She is my heart's true match. I will take her as partner for life." 

The room looked like any parliament in the world after that - not like the famous, cool, calm Circle. Everyone froze first to immobility, then exploded into words. 

Legolas waited patiently, a fabulous smile on his lips. He glanced at Haldir, who sat back in his black armchair, a similar smile on his lips, his eyes gliding around the room. They waited on and on, watching with amusement the so-called composed Circle members expressing all aspects of surprise - some seemed dazed, their mouths agape, staring at him. Some seemed disturbed - almost protesting. Some looked oddly relieved and showed an almost childish surprise and grin on their visage. Several minutes passed before the chamber calmed down once more. Finally all became aware of their state and deeming it highly unbefitting, shut their mouths and forced their expressions into blankness. 

Ednon was the first to speak: "Congratulations, my friend." The same comment was added by Maneth, Saelban, Haldir and all remaining elves at the table. Omar and Irene followed, as did other human members like Kezum, Sophia and Xue-Lien. Legolas met the eyes of each and bowed his head in reply. His expression was solemn and even a little daring. 

He locked eyes with Michael then - the only man in the room who had not said a word. A moment passed between them. At last Michael smiled a broad smile that stank of insincerity. "Forgive me, my Lord. This news has come as a surprise to me," he said gently. "Congratulations, of course."

Legolas did not smile. He fixed the man with his steely gaze, and only much later nodded his approval. He tore his gaze away then and took another look around before he spoke again. "I will make this clear and short: I have not told Irulan of this test. Such a revelation would be unnecessary." He waited a moment. When he spoke again, his tone was downright threatening. "And I want to keep it that way." His eyes did one final round before they focused on Michael once more. "Any disagreements?"

Everyone spoke their agreement. So did Michael, smiling his irritating smile. Legolas nodded and rose from his seat. "I will see you all tonight at dinner as my guests. And tomorrow at the meeting, as my colleagues. After that, we shall part as friends."

All rose as he bowed slightly and proceeded to leave the room. After he left, another explosion came about and Haldir glided back into his seat, settling to watch the happenings with amusement and curiosity. 

***

There was a knock on her door and Irulan walked up and opened it, expecting a servant. "Legolas," she smiled, stepping back to let him in and before she could complete the task of closing the door, she was pressed against it and being kissed senseless. It took her a moment to overcome the shock and kiss him back, embracing his shoulders. The fire of need that was emanating from him reflected her own and Irulan was amazed how much she had missed this. For minutes they remained in that state - victims to a hunger that refused to be satiated. He pulled her against himself with such force that the breath deserted her and Irulan was forced to turn away to regain it. The elf released her immediately in alarm. "Have I hurt you?" 

Irulan swallowed and shook her head. "No," she managed to whisper finally and to her own surprise, embraced his neck, pulling him down for another kiss. Legolas obliged happily, but this time refrained from a strong embrace. Instead he gently grasped her waist, pressing her against him while his lips continued their task softer and with more care, but none less passionate. 

"This was torture," he whispered finally, leaning his forehead on hers. Irulan chuckled despite herself and closed her eyes. She refrained from saying that it had been only a few hours - for she too felt like it had been far longer. Too long. "I told them." 

She leaned a little back to give him a good look. "Was that wise?" she said slowly. 

"It was either that or certain death," he groaned, planting another passionate kiss on her lips. "I had no intention of hiding it anyway," he sighed a moment later, cupping her face. "I had to…take care of some details first."

They did not speak for a while as he combed her hair off her face and she ran her fingers over his face. "How did Michael react?" she said slowly. 

Legolas gave her a long look. "You must understand that your line has always been the reason for much envy and discomfort amongst the human members in the Council. It is only natural," he said finally. 

Irulan took a deep breath, finding his hand and entwining her fingers with his. "My entire life has changed in such a short time. I am a little...dazed."

"Yes, I understand. I am, too," was his gentle reply. 

She bit her lower lip and looked over his shoulder for a moment. "Legolas? Do you think…I mean..." She locked eyes with him and he gave her an encouraging smile. "Maybe I should return to New York." When his face gained a surprised expression, she hastily added, "Only for a short while! I mean...it's hard to cut myself off from my entire life just like that!"

He shifted slightly to place a hand over her shoulder and on the door behind her. Leaning on it, he looked down at her. "You mean to part from me, Irulan?" he said, his voice carrying both disbelief and the slightest tinge of alarm. 

"No! We can go together."

His blue eyes remained fixed on her as she pursed her lips and stared back, anxious of his reply. And why exactly was that? She was not a woman to heed the opinion of others. Before Legolas, all her affairs had been the comic representation of a woman striding on her own path and the man trying to run along, eventually giving up on the struggle to do so. The woman, though, had never really cared too much about that. Now all of a sudden it was important what a man had to say. Something in her stirred with annoyance to that. Perhaps Anne was right after all...maybe she WAS becoming weak!

"Why the change of heart?" he said finally and his tone gave nothing away. She shrugged, a little edgy with her new discovery and looked over his shoulder. Legolas found her chin and turned her face to him. "Has something happened?"

"No," she said, almost defensively, "What could happen? It's only…I cannot find it in myself to change so fast. It'll help if it happens gradually."

He gave her a slow, thoughtful nod. "I understand."

"Good," she exhaled with relief. Never mind Anne! That woman was paranoid!

"But I do not agree," he added then and her mind went blank with surprise. "I thought you were not happy with your life?" he said a moment later, trying to understand her reasoning. 

"Yes…but..." she stammered, caught off-guard by his irritating insistence. "Legolas, how on earth can I give up on EVERYTHING all at once?! My work…"

"…which you complained about," he cut in dryly. 

Irulan continued, pretending not to hear his intervention: "…the people I know..."

"Whom you can visit any time you'd like."

"...my…my apartment!"

"In exchange for dozens of other homes," Legolas inserted smoothly, his gaze not wavering. 

"New York!"

"For the entire world," was his amused reply.

"And Anne!"

"Ah..." he said then, a twinkle settling in his eyes, "...NOW I see."

"She is a reason too, of course," Irulan said matter-of-factly, annoyed at his discovery. 

"Of course," was the response, his tone mimicking hers. 

"Legolas, stop it! The point is, I want to remain in New York. Period!" 

Irulan pushed up her chin and tried to look as determined as she could. She WAS determined. Only...a little uneasy. Especially since he was smiling down at her in that very unnerving fashion. "How interesting," he mused a moment later, "*I* thought you meant to roam the world."

She swallowed softly and looked away. "Well…I want that, too."

He nodded with mock thought, trying to hide his smile. "At the same time, too, Irulan?"

Irulan exhaled in frustration and tried to push him to move away. Legolas only rose his eyebrows and placed his other hand on the other side of her head, imprisoning her completely. "Look at me," he said when she insisted on staring at his shoulder. His face held determination when she locked eyes with him, but soon melted into a tired sympathy. His hand began the caress of her cheeks once more before Legolas continued, softer in tone, "Do you trust me, Irulan?"

"I do," she whispered. It was true. 

Legolas nodded once in approval, his eyes never leaving hers. "Do you want to be with me?"

"Of course," was the soft exhale. 

"Good," he said gently, placing a surprising kiss on her temple. "I cannot choose for you. Neither would I want to. I can only present you with options. You stand at your own crossroads alone."

"Legolas...why can't you come with me?" she said, suddenly afraid that she would lose him altogether. 

"I will come anywhere you go," he said slowly, wiping her hair from her face in lazy strokes. "But I cannot change who I am."

"I don't want you to!" she said hastily, clasping his hand. 

"Yes you do," was the tender response, accompanied by a smile. She stared back, determined to convince him of his mistake, but he continued, "I am not a man, Irulan. I never was. Never will be. Forever, I am Legolas the elf."

"But that's what I want!" she insisted.

"Is it really?" he said, cocking his head to give her a better look. A moment passed between them. "I am too old to be 'modern', Irulan. Too different to be a Man. I am nothing like you have encountered before. You say you want me, and yet you know nothing about me." 

"But Legolas..." She did not know how to continue, therefore cast her gaze down, feeling suddenly a little stupid and ashamed. Anne had made sense. And so did Legolas! Maybe she should just place those two in a room and let THEM battle over her! 

His hand remained in her grasp, gently squeezing hers as he continued, "Everything has a price. If I am to face all that comes with being with you, you too must agree to face all that makes me who I am." Another kiss landed on her temple as she sighed with frustration, finally leaning in to place her cheek on his shoulder. Legolas folded her in a gentle embrace. "You can not change, and yet remain the same."

Irulan said nothing. She realized that in her heart, she wanted to stay. And yet, she wanted to go. She loved Legolas. And yet, she loved her independence, too. She wondered if everyone felt like this before commitments of this nature, or if most people knew exactly what they wanted and how to get it. Why did everything have to be this black and white?! Whatever happened to the grey hues? She groaned in frustration at her own stupid indecisiveness and hid her face in his shirt. Her fury at her own state seemed to swell by the moment. She had been such a strong woman! In charge of her own life! Uncaring of other people's opinions! Confident in what and who she was! Knowing what she wanted! The Irulan who was standing in Legolas' arms now was far from that! This Irulan was weak and foolish. She was afraid to lose a man and afraid to gain him as well! She wanted everything and yet, none of it at the same time! A dark thought crawled up to her, then: Perhaps she had always been this fragile, shallow woman that she seemed to be now? Perhaps she had fooled herself all this time and she was NOTHING that an heir of Aragorn should be like! Maybe the real Irulan just waited to step out of that alluring shell at the right chance to do so! 

"I hate being in love!" she groaned against his chest as he laughed, rubbing her back. 

"Let us find a middle road," Legolas said then, gently. 

"What is that?" she whispered, looking up at him.

"I'll come to New York and you'll do anything I want," he grinned. Irulan smirked at him with mock disbelief. "Or…you stay and I'll do anything you want."

She groaned and dug her face into his chest again. "Why do those options sound the same and to YOUR advantage, Legolas?" she mumbled. 

"Fine. We'll go somewhere else and do anything we want."

She laughed and pushed him away with frustration. Only Legolas was better and pulled her along and she ended beneath him on the couch. Her protests were drowned out in an unrelenting kiss as he trapped her effectively and she softened under his playful insistence. Only after several minutes he decided to have mercy on her and pulled back a little. Irulan tried to breathe and remember what they were doing before that scorching kiss and it was a difficult task indeed. "What was the final decision?" she panted, looking up at his beautiful smile. 

"We decided that you will obey me in every fashion," he said solemnly. She smacked his shoulder and he laughed, kissing her cheeks. Momentarily his gaze went to the door, then back to her. "You don't mind Anne seeing us like this, do you, my love?" he whispered playfully in her ear. Irulan stilled in panic at that, then broke into a hasty attempt to free herself. The elf just chuckled with delight and kept her trapped underneath him. 

"Legolas!" she hissed, not knowing why the hell she was being so alarmed. After all, Anne knew about this affair. But then…she had never seen Irulan trapped underneath one of her lovers and was sure to talk about it FOREVER if she spotted it. "I mind! Get off me!" she whispered in urgency. 

He gazed at the door again, very unaffected by her struggles. "Will you stay with me tonight?" he said after their eyes locked once more. 

"What?"

"Come to me tonight and I shall get off before she comes in."

Irulan gave him an agape look, then threw a hasty glance at the door. "Get off, I say!" she hissed again. 

"Promise and I will."

"I promise! I promise!"

He slowly got up, an excellent grin on his face as he held out his hand. Irulan grasped it swiftly, pulling herself up and feeling overly foolish as she hastily threw back her hair and smoothed her garments with her hands. She gave his calm and amused expression a furious glance, then cleared her throat and looked at the door. A moment passed. Then another. Wondering what had happened, she looked back at him with confusion and he just grinned broader. "What happened?" she whispered in urgency. 

He shrugged with all innocence as he clasped his hands behind his back. Irulan bit her lower lip, giving the door another long look and to her surprise, the elf began a leisure walk towards it. He opened it then, utterly calm and Irulan tensed, expecting a curious Anne to look over his shoulder. 

Only there was nobody there. Their eyes met again when he turned to give her a fabulous smile. "I will see you at dinner. And later tonight of course."

Irulan pursed her lips in discomfort – damn the man! Now Anne had, no doubt, heard that! "Where is Anne?" she whispered, trying to see beyond him. 

"I don't know," he said, giving her a confused look. 

Irulan stared back at him. "You said she was coming!" was her final, stupid statement. 

"I said no such thing," was his blank response. 

Her mouth dropped open as she took an unconscious step towards him. A flicker of the amusement he was trying to hide so dearly passed over his features, but disappeared swiftly. "Yes you did!" she protested, rather audible this time. 

"I did not, Irulan," he replied gently, as if talking to a little child. "I merely asked if you would mind her spotting us." He added another shrug, watching her features quickly resolve into shock. 

"Legolas...but you..."

Try as he might, he simply could not help to grin with victory at her baffled, dazed, shocked state. "I kept my word and got off you before she came in, did I not?" was his lofty comment. "Then you must keep yours and come to me tonight!"

"You...you...Greenleaf! You immature, impossible..."

He smiled a majestic smile, then shut the door behind him, leaving a stomping Irulan and her string of adjectives behind. 

***

"I must admit...I never saw THAT coming!" she said, approaching his back. Michael did not answer. His eyes were fixed on the group of elves and women standing on the dark terrace, speaking and laughing in soft voices. His eyes found Irulan immediately - she stood slightly with her back turned to him, her long hair loose and hanging over her black shirt. Her arms were crossed on her chest and she was leaning on Legolas, whose right arm was caressing her back in slow, wide circles. They both seemed to be talking to Maneth. 

He sighed as his fingers continued their tapping on the coffee mug in his hand. "Neither did I," he murmured at last, still not turning away from the view. He glanced at the other end of the group where Irene stood. 'Stupid woman!' flew through his head before he could help it. "And that was a grave mistake on our behalf, Elizabeth." 

Elizabeth looked up to him, deep confusion on her face. "Mistake?" 

Michael took a slow sip from his coffee and watched the scene for some more time before he answered: "Don't tell me that you don't see what this means!" he drawled. 

The woman turned to glance at the view outside, then back at him. "It means that Lord Legolas has no taste in women," she said dryly. When Michael gave her one of those extremely frosty looks she sighed and continued, "All right. It also means that we have underestimated Irulan. I admit it!" 

"Elizabeth...sometimes I question the validity of our tests. How on earth did you end up in the Circle?" 

She slowly turned around and looked him up and down with narrowed eyes that spoke of obvious threat. To her surprise, Michael only grinned a feral grin and nodded as if saying 'Finally! That's the spirit!' Another sip from the coffee before he continued. "This," he said, motioning to the gathering outside, "is very, very dangerous for us." 

"Why?" was the timid question. 

A moment passed as they heard another wave of laughter reach them. Haldir's voice stood out and chimed through the warm autumn night. "She will take her place in the Circle." 

Elizabeth stilled for a moment in surprise as the expected reaction of discomfort washed over her. She forced it down. Almost all human members of the Council felt discomfort any time an heir of Aragorn was mentioned. She was no exception. "It's what we wanted," she said then, shrugging with disinterest. "It is her duty anyway." 

His green eyes bored into her then and she felt very uneasy at his attitude that spoke of barely suppressed fury. "Take a look at that scene," he hissed, "and tell me what you see!" 

"I....well I see..." 

"I see a woman who dominates the strongest member of the Circle!" he continued, disregarding her lack of speech. "A man who dominates all others!" 

At last it dawned on her and her beautiful eyes widened with understanding. Elizabeth even grew a shade paler. She turned around and gave Irulan a long look, who was now smiling at something that Haldir was saying. Elizabeth's eyes drifted off to Legolas, whose profile showed deep contentment and peace as his arm continued his caress of her back. "She does not dominate Legolas," she whispered unconsciously, heavy disbelief in her voice. But it was obvious that she did not believe her own statement, so Michael didn't bother to argue about it. 

"Who do you think Irulan will try to eliminate first, my dear Elizabeth?" he replied instead, deep amusement in his tone. 

Elizabeth gulped audibly and did not tear her eyes away. "We are members of this Council! We have been through hell to gain this place! She CANNOT eliminate us at her whim," she seethed finally, locking eyes with him again. 

Michael, though, looked very unaffected. He leisurely took another mouthful of coffee and lingered a little before he spoke in a lofty voice, "Don't you ever read history? Perhaps SHE can't. But the elven members always have a say over us and they will follow Legolas in every decision. And Legolas, my dear, will follow her." 

A very long moment passed in silence, as woman and man stood contemplating the meaning of it all, deep fear and fury pulsing from them. "What will we do?" whispered Elizabeth finally, turning away from the terrace scene in annoyance. 

Michael sighed deeply. "The bond between them is dangerous for us. We must break it." 

The woman gave him along, apprehensive look. "How can we break a bond like that?" she said with irritation. 

"Well...Lord Legolas has not told her about the wager – so he said. And… he was very direct in his demands about nobody revealing it…" He looked down at her and Elizabeth nodded in a manner that said 'of course' and waited on. "And...I think Irulan would act rather…interesting if she ever found out. What is your opinion?" 

Her mouth fell open. It took her several moments to reply. "We can't reveal that!" she hissed with urgency and alarm. "Lord Legolas will finish us off!" 

"Weren't you listening?! He will finish us off anyway!" he said then and for the first time his anger and alarm was betrayed in his voice. Even Elizabeth swallowed hard coming face to face with it and remained glued to his eyes, waiting. "If I am to be thrown off a cliff, at least I will take her with me!" was the whisper of a reply. 

He sharply turned away then, looking back outside and the woman trembled slightly, joining his observation. Irulan was speaking to Legolas now and the elf stood, his head slightly inclined towards her, his looks fixed on the floor and a fabulous smile on his lips. Yes...they looked dangerous. Very much so.

*** 


	19. Era of War and Battle

It was an exciting, and at times, painful - especially when she slammed into something in the dark - task to find his room. She knew more or less where it was because she had met him somewhere close to it on the first day she arrived, but she had no idea which particular room it was. Not to mention that the castle was huge. It took Irulan twenty minutes to walk around in the dim corridors, coming upon other rooms or doors – some locked and some not. Finally, deciding that this was a silly game, she decided to give up and go back to her own chamber. Let him come and find HER, if he was this eager! 

Just then she saw a dim ray of light and after a few steps recognized it to be the moonlight falling on the dark corridor through one of the doors that stood ajar while all others were closed. She slowly walked towards it, and before she could peek in, he spoke. "Come in, Irulan."

She almost jumped at that sudden –no matter how gentle- sound and exhaled in frustration before she moved to stand at the entrance. Her eyes wandered around the room that, due to the large window in the far end, was brighter than the dark corridors she had been snooping around and therefore no challenge for her poor vision. Legolas stood by the window, leaning on the wall and looking out into the blue-black forest. He seemed almost too beautiful a vision to be true, looking more as if made of marble than flesh. He turned his head, his crystal eyes finding hers as his lips broke into a smile. Neither spoke for a moment as she shifted to cross her arms on her chest, more to hide her excitement than to pretend resistance. "You took too long," he said, his smile widening though his stance did not change. 

Irulan gave him a dry look. "Has anyone told you that this place is too big for a single person?"

"Come here," he said, ignoring her attempt at bashing. His voice was low and his eyes seemed to sparkle in the moonlight. 

Irulan bit her cheeks and sighed with mock disinterest, her eyes making another stroll through the room. She carefully avoided looking at the large bed and scratched her chin absent-mindedly before she spoke. "No."

The rise of his eyebrows was very evident even from this distance and she knew with certainty that it was amusement washing over his expression. He slightly bounced off the wall and turned fully to her. "No?" was his soft and amazed question. 

She shrugged, trying very hard to look unaffected by his immense physical beauty. Legolas wore his cotton sweater and pants once more, his hair long and free on his shoulders. "You tricked me into coming. And guess what...I came. As I have told you I would. Now...I will leave," she said, pushing up her chin and smiling with victory at her own cunning. 

His teeth glimmered when he grinned, taking a leisurely step towards the bed, and therefore not closer to her, but to a better angle, facing her. "Is that so?" he said playfully, without looking at her, as he clasped his hands behind his back. 

"Yes it is," she said with mock determination and moved to turn around. 

"I accept the challenge," Legolas said and she glanced to see his feral grin. 

"What challenge?"

"Go on, Irulan. I'll even give you a head start. Say...five minutes?"

She turned back completely, grasping the door handle. "For what?"

He grinned broader. "For you to go anywhere you want."

Irulan, now both anxious and childishly excited, bit her lower lip and remained staring at him. "I will go to my room of course," she said suspiciously. 

"Ah," he said, grinning again, "I would not recommend that." His eyes did a lazy stroll over her figure. "Or else, this time Anne would indeed come to witness you trapped below me, my love."

Irulan blushed despite herself and struggled hard to keep her expression unaffected. "She told me all about your chit chat before you took me on that trip."

"Ah yes," he grinned. "And tonight she might get to see the outcome."

"Legolas...don't you dare to come and-."

"You should not have said that, Irulan," he cut in smoothly and walked around the bed, his eyes glued to her. 

She pursed her lips, the excitement and yet slight fear gaining momentum in her. This man was crazy! "And if you fail to find me?" she said, cocking her eyebrow. 

He laughed a chiming laugh. Yes, so it was a stupid idea...but she had to ask. "You can demand anything you want, then," was his final and very amused reply. A moment passed. "But if I do..." he growled, his blue eyes fixed on her as Irulan resisted the urge to tremble, "...you must try this." His fingers gracefully glided over an article on the bed as he continued his smile at her. 

Irulan exhaled in mock frustration and strode into the room, coming to stand by his side. Her mouth fell open at the...daring...black lace lingerie spread on the bed and immediately she knew what that meant. It meant Catherine, of course! "That darn woman!" she moaned and turned to Legolas who was looming over her, his blazing look fixed on her face. 

His fingers brushed against her cheek as he leaned in and placed such a heated kiss on her neck, that Irulan felt her knees go weak. "Of course...I prefer to see you without it," he murmured, smiling a sly smile, "but a glimpse would not hurt."

"Very funny, Legolas," she breathed, shaken but not completely defeated.

"I think it will be more like...enflaming," he whispered in reply. Irulan swallowed softly, taking a step back to shake off the spell he was weaving on her. "In any case," he said then, with a lofty voice and, to her surprise, strode back to his place by the window, "we will see in 3 minutes and 28 seconds."

"Legolas!" she hissed as he merely looked back with raised eyebrows. "If you think that I'm going to run through this castle like some stupid wild animal..." 

"Stay then," he said suggestively, "and spare yourself the effort."

She gave him a glare and walked out the room, closing the door behind her. Then remained standing. This was so stupid! The impulse to just go back in and let him kiss her senseless was incredibly strong and Irulan actually would have obeyed it, if not for the fact that she hated to give up. Defeat was not a terrible thing. But giving up?! No, not her! 

She should go back to her room, since it was the only place she was sure to find in this stupid place. But then...the elf was out of his mind! If he strode in like that, Anne would die from a heart attack! The idea made her bite her lip to keep a laugh down. Irulan began to walk down the corridor, then carefully down the stairs. She could not go to her room. "Fine," she thought," I can leave the castle." 

It was easier said than done. Everything looked so different in the dark and repeatedly she ran into furniture. Legolas had to be deaf not to hear where she was going! Nevertheless, coming to larger corridors, she began to run and finally, discovering that she had lost her way, just ran on blindly in hope that the greater distance would diminish his chance of hearing her. She had no idea how much time had passed, but it must have been well over fifteen minutes. Shaking her head with disbelief at her childish ways, she continued, slower and with more caution. This did not appear to be a place she had been before...but then...everything looked foreign and alien under this light. 

The idea that she could actually get lost in this place occurred to her then, but she felt no fear. Irulan walked through a narrow corridor and just for the heck, began to test the doors. Her third choice was unlocked and it opened silently. She strode in, closing the door behind her, baffled to silence by what she found. The walls were covered with weapons of all style and sizes, and many others stood on tables or trays, or were placed against the walls. Her mouth fell open as she walked in, amazed by the variety and the number of them. Blades of all sizes and shapes glimmered dully in the moonlight coming through the small windows that stood quite high on the walls. Careful not to tip anything over, Irulan walked on, stepping closer to some and giving them an inspective look. 

Many seemed very old, almost antique. Others looked very new – as if they had been purchased from the store just yesterday. Some she recognized – samurai swords or armory that seemed from the Middle Ages. Others were very alien and foreign to her eyes and she could not guess what their origin or time could be. The room led to another that held guns of all varieties, then to another, a smaller that held weaponry of older origin. Her breath caught as she looked about the swords and lances and pieces of war clothing that seemed very old...but also very tasteful and intricate. She cocked her head, walking closer to a blade that was placed on the wall. It had a curious arc and looked very aesthetic. Simple, but graceful. There were inscriptions on its blade, but hard to see well enough in this setting. Unconsciously her fingers reached out, touching the alluring metal. 

"Don't touch that," Legolas said from behind her and Irulan jumped, thereby delivering a cut on her finger. Amazed by the sharpness of it she remained looking down at her hand as the dark liquid slowly became a small stream, running down her finger. Legolas was beside her, as silent and swift as a ghost, lifting up her hand for better inspection. 

"Sorry," she managed to say when her heartbeat had settled down a little. "You...startled me."

"And you surprised me," he whispered, raising her hand and to her shock, slowly kissing her wound. Irulan swallowed at the incredible intensity that was pulsing from his eyes and remained very still as he found her cut and kissed it again, his lips delivering a slight suction to clean the small dribble of blood. For the strangest reason, it excited her incredibly and she shifted a little, her breath gaining speed. 

"It seems very sharp," she said, glancing at the blade again. The fire of passion that was leaking through his shield was hard to ignore, but it helped to speak and change the topic. 

He smiled down at her, gently caressing her finger. "It is of elven making. It will never grow dull."

Her eyes widened slightly and she looked back at the weapon. Indeed, now that he told her, the inscriptions seemed to be elven. He smiled a fabulous smile, then released her hand, carefully picking up the blade and bringing it down to hold it flatly on both palms. Irulan looked at its bluish, dull glimmer and felt fascinated by it. Because of the sole fact that it dated back to the Old Days. He held it out to her and Irulan gave him a shy smile before she grasped the handle. 

It had an extremely comfortable weight in her hand – not too light and not cumbersomely heavy. It seemed to be a short sword – arched in a peculiar manner. The handle was of something like ivory – though she knew it was not ivory. Maybe the tooth of some other animal. It was greenish white in color and felt warm to her touch. She held it up, turning a little to draw a lazy arc in the air. "Was it yours?" she whispered, her eyes locked to it. 

"It was," came his whisper from behind. 

"Have you killed any giant spiders with it?"

He chuckled lightly and she felt his chest pressing into her back as his arms encircled her waist. A kiss landed on her neck as he inhaled her scent. "Would that impress you?" was his playful whisper. 

She smirked in mock disinterest. "Perhaps."

"My lady is being difficult," he sighed, kissing her earlobe. 

Irulan hastily placed the blade back on the wall, afraid that she would cut herself again as a result of his ministrations. She broke away, backing into the room as he remained, an amused and intrigued expression on his face. "I am not that easily impressed, Lord Legolas," she said with a lofty voice. 

"I can see," he said, advancing on her, his muscles moving like the tendons of a wild animal. 

"It is not wise to back me to a corner in a room full with weapons!" she said, glancing swiftly around. 

"True," he sighed, "you have a tendency to hurt yourself."

Irulan smirked at him, backing further and trying not to look anxious during the process. "All of these have been yours?" she said, her eyes wandering over the walls and the incredible number of the weapons. 

"In this or that fashion," he said, joining her inspection for a moment. Though he was closing the distance between them, he seemed very unaware or perhaps uninterested in it. "Some I have used. Some were given as gifts. Some I have won. Others I acquired, but not with the intention of using them." A moment passed as her back ran into an armor and she stepped aside. Legolas halted two steps away from her, his gaze fixed on her along with a beautiful smile. "Pick one," he said gently. 

She gave him a surprised look, then broke into soft chuckles. "For what?"

He shrugged deftly, clasping his hands behind his back. "I am curious what you would pick."

She smiled in childish amusement, then did a lazy stroll around the room while Legolas remained on his spot, his eyes never leaving her. She tried to forget him being there...but it was hard when he was this intense. "How did you find me?" she said, without turning around to look at him. 

"I dare not give away my secrets," he drawled as she inspected a long sword, then passed by, glancing at him. "But...if it will make you feel better, it took me longer than I thought," he said, crossing his arms on his chest. "Too long," he added in a suggestive manner. 

She tried to ignore his eyes boring into her back and continued inspecting a double blade, crossed at the wall. "Legolas!" she groaned, deciding against picking it, "Please don't make me wear...THAT!" referring once more to lingerie awaiting in his bedchamber.

She met his blue stare and his lips curved up into a devious smile. "It won't be for long, I promise," he whispered. 

She blushed again, then turned away, trying to hide it. Legolas had an incredible way of exciting her! And he was very straightforward, too! Her gaze went to another stack of swords, laid in parallel lines on the wall and she walked over to give them a long look. "Have any of your...lovers...seen this room?" That was perhaps not the best thing to ask in a setting like this...but Irulan was desperate to divert his attention from herself. 

"No," was his sole answer. 

"Why not?" she prodded on, taking a closer look at the one that stood third from below. 

"I did not share my life with them as I do with you," he said and he sounded much closer. But she did not dare turn to check. Instead she reached for the sword that seemed to be made of a duller metal – maybe iron. It was much heavier than the other one and was a straight, long sword. Very simple. No curves. No inscriptions. The handle was of the same metal, wound with a leather band. She lifted it, placing her other hand below the blade, and carefully glided her finger across the edge. It was not nearly as sharp, either. And yet....there was a rawness to it that she just liked. Very simple. Primitive, even. But it looked effective and useful. Nothing fancy. Nothing too much. Exactly what it should be. 

She turned and found him right before her. "This one," she said, weighing it on her hands before lifting it up a little for him to see. 

He did not look at the blade, but kept his eyes on her. And it went on for so long that she felt uncomfortable and shifted on her feet. "Why that one?" he said slowly, his gaze still on her. 

She shrugged slowly and grabbed the handle, holding it downwards. The tip touched the floor as she gave it a long look. "I don't know," was her final, unsure statement. "It seems...right." She looked up to meet his eyes. "Is it a poor choice?"

"Never," he whispered, suddenly cupping her face and giving her a mind-blowing kiss. Irulan, oddly glad that the incredible tension had finally ended and that he was touching her, kissed him back, her free hand going up to the front of his sweater to pull him down further to herself. His hand glided to her neck as he tilted his head the other way and kissed her again – not with feverish hunger, but with deep, lazy, seductive passion. His tongue rolled over hers in a possessive but gentle caress and his lips were sinfully skilled on hers. 

It did not last too long and barely moments later he pulled away, to her dismay. She swallowed and opened her eyes, gazing up at his incredibly handsome face as his hands remained on her neck for a moment longer. "You," he sighed, placing his hand on hers to pull up the weapon, "are the best thing that has happened to me. In you I have found all." He pulled it up entirely, giving the dark blade a long look. "A long lost friend," he continued, his eyes following the edge of it, "A confidant for all my secrets. A listener to my tales. A lover to my heart." He sighed again, giving her a long look, his free hand gliding down her cheek. 

"This blade belonged to no other than your great-great-great grandfather," he said slowly, a fabulous smile on his perfect lips. Her eyes widened slightly at that and her head snapped around to give it a better look. "I knew you would find it. As I have found you," he whispered, continuing his caress of her cheek. 

She gave the room another look, then back at the blade in her hand. "This is..." she laughed softly, shaking her head in wonder. "I don't understand how I...managed to..."

"You are the daughter of kings!" he whispered, his eyes boring into her. "NEVER doubt yourself, Irulan!"

She swallowed at his tone and remained looking up at him as he fixed her with his gaze that seemed more inhuman in this dim setting. An intense silence filled the room as her breathing became audible and the weight of the weapon evident in her hand. "What of the one who will share your burden, Legolas?" she said finally, her dark orbs like pools without depth. "Am I her, as well?" Legolas gave her a long look, then took a deep breath and tilted back a little. His eyes fixed on the blade again and Irulan lifted it, placing it back to the wall before she turned to face him once more. "Or do you need no one to share your pain with?" she said, and instantly felt amazed that she had managed to say it out like that. 

He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Not anymore," he said then, dropping his hand to give her a deep gaze. "I have you, now. My burden is no more."

She cocked her head and took a step to him. "Is that the chamber that is closed to me, like this one was closed to your former lovers?" she said and he stared down at her, clear surprise on his face. "Is that as far as I go, Legolas?"

"I would give my soul if you asked it of me," he whispered, almost with urgency. 

"Keep your soul," she chuckled, shaking her head. She bit her lip, looking up to his visage. Nothing about him said that he was millennia old. And from their current pose, none would have guessed it. Irulan acted as if she was older than he – scolding him, teasing him, or daring him as she was now. "Give me your pain," she added with a solemn whisper. 

He looked away, clenching his jaws, his overwhelming male dominance faltering for the first time that night. She placed her hands on his cheeks, turning his face back to her. "Will you do me the honor, Legolas?" she said with a gentle smile. 

He exhaled in frustration and pulled up her hand to place a kiss on its back. His eyes were closed and his lips spoke of a struggle to resist. A long moment passed and she did not break it, giving him his space for battle. She wondered if Legolas had asked it of her...if he had openly asked her to slash him like this and cause hurt to him just because he wanted to, would she have been able to do it? That question made her uncomfortable about her own request. She wanted to share his pain, knowing that it would bring great relief to him, true. But suddenly it seemed too great a demand. And just when Irulan was about to retrace her offer, his gaze locked with hers once more. And she knew that she was the luckiest woman on earth...for she was the only one to enter that chamber – the one that stood locked to all. 

"Enter at will, then," he said, and his voice filled the world as his eyes blazed like blue flames. Irulan took a deep breath, feeling the world shift. She did not resist this time, eager to let it be smooth. Still, it was nowhere easy. Maybe because against his decision, Legolas was reluctant. Or maybe against her own decision she was afraid of the pain. 

Nevertheless, they shifted through time and years opened up before them, parting in the blink of an eye as if they were a simple curtain, drawn away with the sole movement of a hand. Millennia shifted and glided aside, and distance was a silly word. Irulan took another, gentle and deep breath as the world flickered, and became no more, then flickered and became something else. She gazed into the distance as night dissolved into twilight and the room melted into an open grassland, surrounded by a forest. She blinked and beheld the hill that rose before her, in the middle of this empty speck. 

Her eyes followed it up, and she found the figure of a woman on top of it. Her long dress blew in the wind, billowing like some cloud. Black it was, like her hair that was like a flag – a protest to the world, screaming a silent and bitter song. The stillness was absolute and the vision so utterly real as Irulan felt the breeze flow over and by her, carrying the scent of the autumn and the forest with it. 

Suddenly she felt Legolas behind her, his arms encircling her waist as his chest pressed into her back. She felt his warm exhale on her nape and his forehead resting on the back of her head. But even if she wanted, she could not turn away from the view before her. Another and stronger gust came and rattled her dress, but the woman did not move. She seemed to be lying on the ground, embracing a boulder half embedded into the incredibly green grass. Her face was hidden from Irulan, partly because of her pose and partly because of the hair flying around it in a mad dance. 

Just like the other visions, Irulan knew instantly who this was and what was happening. She knew it, because Legolas knew it. Because he had stood here, at this very spot and watched her life seep into the earth, like bitter water spilled on the ground – wasted and gone from his reach for all time. Gone was the woman who walked underneath the white birches, her hand in the crook of Aragorn's arm, her heart happier than any creature could believe to be. Gone was the woman who sat by the same man, ready to face every toil, every evil, every burden. She was no more. This was a mere shell of her – empty and fragile. 

Irulan swallowed down a lump, an incredible sorrow squeezing her heart. The desire to run up the hill and shake her awake overcame her. At the same time she sensed the desire to turn away from it, for it seemed almost too intimate a thing to witness. What could be more private than death? The final journey all must take alone? 

Her hand found his arm on her waist and grasped it while the grief became unbearable and Legolas embraced her stronger, as if to soothe her pain. She swallowed again, thinking herself downright stupid to believe that she was capable of handling something of this magnitude. But a moment later her own thoughts vanished as his recollection of the moment came over her once more, very much like another gust of wind combing through the forest. 

The torment of a warrior. Of a man who was built to fight. Who knew no fear too deep, no hardship too great, no target too far. A man who now stood in the twilight of this day and watched a dear friend parting from him, her back turned to him like it was turned to the rest of the world. A man who did not know how to handle that and stood rooted, a part of him pulling him to polite distance while another kept urging for silly attempts. A part of him begged to turn away and leave while another desired nothing more than advance and lie his head next to hers, on that windy hill. A part of him felt anger for her decision and another begged her forgiveness for his fury. 

Ah...Arwen would never know his torment! No one would. For all came and passed and Legolas remained. All embraced in welcome, then waved in parting and Legolas watched on the shore. All showed their faces in greeting, then their backs in farewell, and Legolas stood aside. The road of mortality...banned he was from it for all times. The road all enjoyed sooner or later was closed to him for all eternity. No...no walk amongst friends for Legolas. He was cursed to watch it in solitude. Just like he did now, standing here and watching Arwen die, watching the day die, watching the light die, watching the summer die. Yes...Legolas would stand right here and watch death dance its taunting dance, and forever remain thirsty for its touch – the touch that never came. 

Irulan's eyelids fluttered and the vision blurred. Against all her control, she simply failed to keep her tears from flowing. It mattered little. The loss of hope in her heart was too great to be expressed – not a million tears would do justice to it. And then...out of nowhere she knew. Her arms dropped as she leaned back on Legolas as she knew with a knowledge beyond her grasp that Arwen Undomiel was no more. 

Here, in this silent forest where there was no one to witness but Legolas alone, a woman of incredible strength had passed. No one knew. No one cared. Her own kind had long departed. Her family was not here. Her subjects were at home, dreaming their safe dreams. Irulan's eyes went up to the sky where the first stars began to glimmer. The world kept turning and nothing had changed. 

Arwen Undomiel was no more. 

And yet, it was not as dreadful as the fact that this mattered little. It was not as dreadful as the fact that it was the same as if she had never been. 

Irulan sank onto the grass, her eyes glued to the black figure, the black flag of Cerin Amroth. Her fingers dug into the cool, humid earth as the forest insects sang around her in total disinterest. 

Arwen Undomiel was no more. 

Now no one would ever know of the small dimple on her right cheek when she smiled. No one would know of the luster of her hair, or the gentleness of her heart. No one would know the passion of her love and the beauty of her voice. And it mattered none to no one. 

She began to cry, then. She closed her eyes and sobbed like a child, her hands folding on her face to wipe the vision away. Her heart burned so much, Irulan just wanted it to stop beating altogether. She wanted to scream a wail of pain and protest to the world, but her voice was not steady and her lungs were not strong. All she was capable of was crying, to revel in her own weakness. And that, she did well.

Legolas sank down with her onto the hard floor of the dark chamber and embraced her, rocking her through the pain. Who would know the sharp edge of it better than him? Any weapon in this chamber was pleasure compared to the cut of that. He whispered gentle words in his own tongue, his voice shaky and raw. Perhaps he was crying, too. Irulan did not know and had not the heart to look. She just clung to him as if he was all there was in the world and he clung to her in the same fashion, caressing her head and her back in desperation. It would be foolish to say that it did not matter. That it was gone and past. That it was all right. So he said nothing, allowing her to swim through that bitter, stinking water. 

Many minutes they sat there as the night moved on around them. To be so sensitive to the touch of time, is the blessing of humanity - for even the dearest pain diminishes in time. And after many minutes spent in that embrace, finally the sizzling fire lifted and was replaced with a pain of a duller, but deeper kind. Along with the undeniable relief of having someone who knew exactly what you were feeling. Who shared the same. Who was closer to you than any other living, breathing being could ever be. Who loved you more than life itself. 

An incredible bond stitched them to one another as urgent, desperate kisses sprung out of nowhere and their minds burned into ash, leaving only love and desire behind. If asked to die this moment, neither would have hesitated. Life meant nothing. Time meant nothing. The world was an empty word. They had each other and all else was silly and fake compared to this. They kissed again and again, with the desperation of lovers reunited, or lost ones found, or parted ones joined. It was not a raw, animalistic passion that coursed through them. Nor was it the sharp and expected afterglow of such a Sharing. It was far more than that. It was the song of one spirit to another. It was an ode to greatness. It was love that knew no race, no age, no time, no barrier. 

Irulan remembered only fractions of that night. She remembered Legolas lifting her up to carry her out of the room. She remembered the dark corridors passing by her, his stride fast but utterly silent. She remembered kissing him during the walk with a fire she did not know she had ever possessed and she remembered him kissing her back with a fire that made hers look childish. She remembered interludes of the journey, when she was pressed against a wall and her lips surrendered to his. Then she remembered being picked up again and carried on, until she forced another stop and his lips gave in under hers when they ended up on some couch with her sitting on his lap and him embracing her back. Then suddenly they were in his room and she remembered thinking it a miracle that they had actually found their way here. She remembered that the sheets smelled distinctively of him and that his skin felt as if it was made of something better than simple cells and blood. She remembered an incredibly sharp pleasure and a tormenting ardor. She remembered feeling as though she could not get enough of Legolas, that she wanted to have all of him, to devour him and make him a part of herself forever and ever, and that the passion remained forever unsatisfied. 

Ah yes...the world was out there. It was full with foolish pride and ugly greed and sad anger. It was throbbing with agony in any and every form. But...it meant nothing. In this room she had Legolas and they were untouchable. The world could burn and fall apart, she did not care. 'If I am a page in a story,' she thought, 'let the fire consume the words and let the flames scorch the paper. Let the ink dissolve and let the fumes spread into the heavens. This man is mine. Nothing else matters.' 

Their lovemaking only ended because their muscles reached their limits and would obey no more. And yet, she had not managed to consume Legolas as she had wanted to and he was still hungry for her. Their physical bodies surrendered to the fatigue, though their spirits were not satiated. They collapsed onto each other, obsessed with the desire to get rid of all distance between them, and remained in the embrace – weak perhaps in body, but strong enough to challenge the heavens. Sleep came so swift that perhaps she did not sleep, but fainted into slumber. Their brains shut themselves off, determined to survive this madness, and both woman and man remained limp, surrendering to this forced rest. Minutes washed over them and became hours as their breath evened, and their bodies cooled, and their muscles softened. The moon glided away and the skies lightened ever so softly, but neither woke and both dreamed of each other. 

***

Irulan was strolling through the incredibly large castle for more than two hours now, and yet, she had seen so little of it! It was not the size of the building alone that made the tour so long. More than that, her admiration resided with the various objects adorning it. Things that Legolas had acquired from anytime and anywhere in the world, and that stood in this dark silence, speaking of a different spirit. Speaking of Legolas. 

She blushed and grinned despite herself, the thought of the man doing that murderous thing to her heart again. It was so foolish, so childish and so cliché…and yet, Irulan was so damn happy! 'Stupid woman!' she thought, grinning broader, 'Stop it! Big deal! I mean…how old ARE you?!' She sighed and blushed further, thinking of his touch on her skin, his lips on her body, the way he had looked at her and the things he had whispered. Never had she wanted anybody as much as she had wanted Legolas last night. And never had anyone demanded of her as much as he had. And by God…he could have her, down to the last cell! 

Her eyes finally left the intricate tapestry that seemed to date from the Middle Ages, depicting the hunt of a Unicorn in utmost detail. She walked on, to lay her fingers on a seemingly very old, brazen candleholder. Her mind was so occupied with where it may have come from and what story lay behind it - for she was certain that Legolas had acquired none of these objects from some market, but had preserved them due to some personal reason - that she did not hear the presence of another in the room until she spoke up. "How are you, Irulan?" 

Startled by the sudden intervention, Irulan almost jumped up. She turned around to see Elizabeth in her immaculate beauty. Her black hair was tied up in a bun and therefore her pale skin, her perfect eyebrows and her navy blue eyes were more pronounced. She wore black on black - something tasteful and slightly feminine - not a neutral suite. Irulan placed the candle holder back and gave the other woman a smile. "Good. And you, Elizabeth?" 

The woman nodded and began a lazy stroll into the room, her eyes wandering around it. "This is a wonderful place. Full with memories." 

Irulan, surprised by this softer and warmer aspect of her, turned completely to the other woman and remained silent. Finally they locked eyes once more and Elizabeth smiled a small, almost tired, smile. "I want to apologize." 

Irulan blinked in bafflement. "W-why?" she managed to say a long moment later. 

"For my behavior towards you before," Elizabeth replied with a small shrug. 

This was becoming overly strange by the minute! Irulan shifted with unease on her feet. She was not used to this kind of treatment from Elizabeth. Not certain what to do, she glanced at the big clock on the wall. Half an hour to the meeting. Should she not go and take her place? She was about to say this to Elizabeth, when the other woman continued. "I have often questioned the line of Aragorn. You see…," she said and gazed into the distance, slightly cocking her head, "…I have immense respect for the Firstborn. But I found it hard to believe that blood could matter this much." Irulan locked her hands in front of her and waited patiently. "I assumed that it was more for the sake of Aragorn's memory that this tradition continued. Not because the heir was indeed worthy of a place in the Circle." Her blue eyes found her brown ones once more. "You have proven me wrong." 

"Forgive me, Elizabeth," she said finally, "but I seem to be missing something. Did *I* do something that changed your mind?" 

Elizabeth gave her a long, silent look and the other woman just stared back in complete lack of understanding. The clock on the wall ticked loudly, filling the gap of the silence between them. "Why...you have passed the test," she drawled then and her voice gained such an unexpected, serpentine edge that the hair on Irulan's nape rose at the unexpected and drastic change. A moment ago this woman had been warm and soft enough to convince Irulan of her sincerity. Now her blue eyes stared back with cool hatred. 

Another long moment passed and Irulan had to swallow hard before she found the voice to ask, "What test?" 

Elizabeth shrugged and looked away again. "Does not matter," she said dismissively. "We all did pass similar tests to gain a place in the Circle." She took a few more steps by Irulan, towards the tapestry, her eyes lingering on the wounded and bleeding Unicorn. Irulan, who was looking at her back, did not see the deft smile that formed on her lips. "Until now, the King's line was the only exception to such measures. I think Lord Legolas acted very just in changing that." 

Something ached in Irulan then. She had no idea what Elizabeth was talking about. Nor was she naive enough to believe her word and judge Legolas so easily - no matter what she said. But...something ached in her nevertheless and the hurt was very unreasonable, yet utterly real. 

Her mind split into two and to her own surprise, a different Irulan stepped out to take control of things. A calm, cold, sharp woman that was the exact opposite of the one who was in torment of that pulsing ache at the moment. It was with awe that she observed this Irulan pushing up her chin and glaring at Elizabeth who had turned around to face her once more. "You better explain yourself," she growled, surprising them both. A moment passed between them and the other woman's features twisted into the familiar pattern of dislike. She opened her mouth but before she could utter a word, a third voice broke in. 

"Elizabeth! What do you think you are doing?!" 

Both women flinched slightly and turned to see Michael standing a few steps away. He, too, had changed into a dark suit that fit him perfectly. An undeniable expression of anger was on his features. It was such an unexpected sight that another gap of surprise followed as the clock ticked on. Michael finally tore his overly furious gaze from a shocked Elizabeth and turned to Irulan. "We should go. We have only 20 minutes left." 

He turned as if to leave, but Irulan -once again surprising everyone in the room, including herself- spoke up in pure command. "What is going on here?" 

Michael gave her a swift glance, then turned around to continue his walk with disinterest. "Nothing. Nothing other than the foolish ways of Elizabeth. Let us go." 

"You will NOT turn your back to me!" she hissed and the man froze in mid-step. He did not turn around immediately, but if he had, both women would have seen the amazing expression of surprise on his face. He would never admit it, but a fear that was foreign to him ran through him with the tone of command in her voice. Very slowly he moved and very much under the pressure of the same emotions, a baffled Elizabeth turned to face Irulan, as well. Both remained silent as the blazing eyes of the woman went from one to the other. "None of us will go to the meeting until you explain this to me." She crossed her arms leisurely on her chest. "The sooner you start, the sooner we'll leave." 

Another silence set in. Finally Michael gave a baffled and timid Elizabeth another fiery look. "Irulan...we'll talk after the meeting. It is nothing." 

"We will talk now," was the dismissive reply. "And *I* will be the judge of that. What is this issue about a test?" 

"Foolish woman!" spat the man to Elizabeth. The woman flinched with the surprise of that spiteful statement. 

"B-but Michael!" she stammered. 

The man was faster, though, and cut in. "How dare you go against the Lord's word?!" Pale Elizabeth paled even further and her mouth dropped open with shock. Michael turned a softer look to Irulan. "You must forgive her. She is envious of you." 

Elizabeth groaned a sound of shock and disbelief at that, but Michael did not even turn to gaze back at her. Instead, his eyes remained locked on Irulan who took a step towards him. "Michael, it is getting late. And you have not even started yet." 

"Michael! How dare you-" 

"Enough, Elizabeth! You did enough. Leave!" Only when the woman refused to move away did he turn his eyes to her and there was unbelievable threat in those pale eyes. "I said," he hissed between his teeth, "leave!" Still Elizabeth did not move, shocked into immobility. "NOW!" yelled the man and she literally jumped, then almost ran out of the room, her hands rolled into fists and her whole figure trembling. Both woman and man remained looking at each other, listening to the footsteps of the other woman. The clock ticked on. 

After several moments he turned completely to her, an expression of sadness and regret dominating his features. Irulan was as blank as an elf, her hands clasped behind her, her shoulders pushed back. "I know we have not come to like each other much," he said finally, massaging his face with a tired sigh. "And I will not lie to you by saying that you are dear to my heart. But..." with that he dropped his hand and locked his green eyes with hers, "...I respected you. Always. And I still do - much more." He halted for an interlude. "And for that respect, I ask you to let go of this. It was a mistake and Legolas will never forgive us if he hears of it." 

"Michael," sighed Irulan, both with tiredness and impatience, "please! I am not going to run back to Legolas to speak of this, I assure you! I hardly doubt that it's that important! But...whatever it is, spill it. Now!" 

He nodded with defeat and looked her straight in the eye. "You have been tested. For your validity of opinion in the Circle. And you have passed." 

That would be the worst way to put it and Michael did so on purpose, of course. "Tested for VALIDITY?!" she said, amazed and surprised at the same time. "When? By whom?" It did not matter that she had passed - she cared nothing for those things. It only mattered that someone had dared to actually TEST her! 

"Lord Legolas tested you," he said finally. Irulan's shock seeped through her expression and landed right on her face. She dared not breathe as all her mind was wiped clean instantly. She could not think a single thought and even forgot that Michael was there. Thankfully he spoke again. "Irulan," he said with urgency, taking a step towards her with pretended concern, "you should not take this the wrong way. He did it with the best intentions for the Circle. EVERYONE mortal here gets tested at this or that point." He did not say 'Except Estel's line', but it was clear enough between them. 

Irulan did not move a muscle and stared at him utterly still. The clock kept ticking in the background and it was thunderous to her ears. "What kind of test was this?" she said finally and her voice was amazingly calm and composed. 

Michael looked as if it pained him to say it, then took a deep breath, and said "He attempted to seduce you." 

A slap landed on her face and it was due to a miracle that Irulan did not show it. Perhaps she was too shocked to show it. She did not even gasp - only took a slow, deep breath. Her heart was hurting so damn much, that she momentarily thought she was having some sort of heart-attack. Michael's eyes were fixed on her and he did not blink, patiently observing her. She swallowed softly and nodded, biting her cheeks. "I see," was her only reaction and the second, the sentimental Irulan, marveled at herself, admiring her own calmness. Who knew that she could become this...cold...in the face of such news? She cleared her throat, afraid that her voice would rasp. Thankfully it remained unaffected, like her expression. 

A long moment passed and Irulan walked to the window, turning her back to the man. The day was bright and brisk - nothing like the mood she was in at the moment. 'A test,' she thought, baffled beyond words. 'All the trips...all the seduction...the damn COURTING! A test.' She began to laugh then and Michael, who had been expecting some violent explosion of fury, was surprised the second time that day. Irulan shook her head, laughing harder, the sound of it bitter and sad to her own ears. 'How STUPID I am! How damn, damn stupid! Ah...,' with that she sighed and stilled to silence, still shaking her head, '...Aragorn! Your blood has thinned out to nothing!'

Suddenly everything made perfect sense. His sudden advances after they had started off so badly. His refusal to accept her decline. His insistence. Oh man…Irulan laughed again...the whole conversation on the terrace! Why…Legolas had actually gone as far as offering his vote in the Council – so sure he had been that she would fail! 

'And I HAVE failed,' she though then, the humor disappearing so fast that Irulan felt weakened by its absence and placed her hand on the window frame, leaning on it. 'Oh I have failed so, so badly!' a voice in her head hissed, and it sounded nothing like her own voice. All this time when she had believed him to be honest and sincere, he had been trying hard to make her falter. And like a true man, doing it in the worst way possible – by playing with her heart! 

Irulan swallowed, taking a deep breath. Her lungs ached and her head spun. The only thing that kept her from collapsing on to the floor, was the fact that that damnable Michael was here, watching her. 

Another man who wanted her to fail. Another man who wanted her to be weak. 

'I may be stupid,' Irulan thought then, 'but I will not make the same mistake twice!' She pushed back her shoulders, retrieving her hand to clasp it behind. Her gaze held the distant hills, seeing nothing other than scenes from their trip. The chamber was silent other than the ticking of the clock, but Irulan heard only fragments of their conversations with Legolas. 

A slight tremble shook her and the memories that only minutes ago filled her with such tender happiness seemed to slash her with incredible agony now. 'Oh my stupid little Heart, you have forsaken me,' she thought, her mind functioning in strange and alien ways. 'You have forsaken me. You have toyed with me, convincing me that I was doomed to solitude no longer. Look at me now.' Her hand went up to her face to cover her eyes as the absolute stillness continued and she took a ragged breath. 

'He loves you!' hissed an urgent whisper in her head, then. 'He loves you! He Shared with you.' True. No elf would lie in matters like that. 

'What a bitter surprise it must be for him!' she retorted, her tone like the edge of a knife.

'He loves you, Irulan.'

'I'm afraid that is not enough,' she said flatly. 

'But…but love justifies everything.'

'Yes,' she sighed then, dropping her hand back down and lifting her head to the outside view once more. 'But it does not mend all wounds.'

She had trusted Legolas. More than she had dared to trust any other person – including even Anne. And he had sided with these…these disgusting people like Michael and planned to shame her. While she had believed to be on an exciting trip, the whole Council had been, no doubt, sitting in that dank room and laughing at her foolishness! Oh no...love was justifying. But never enough! A fury shot through her then – as it would have through any heir of Aragorn. For none liked to be treated as fools. Not at all. 

'No doubt he has changed his mind,' cut in the voice with even more urgency as the blood in her veins literally felt like cooking. 'Do not forget Vienna! Don't forget last night! Those are things too precious to lose, Irulan.'

'For me or for him?' was the blatant question that finally left that damnable voice speechless. 

Irulan took another deep breath, her lungs still burning incredibly with that action. 'Legolas, Legolas, Legolas...' she thought with bitter amusement, '…the elf who turned out to be a Man.' The man who had allowed her to make that pledge, not feeling guilty in the slightest. Yes, he had tried to decline, but obviously had enjoyed the later days when she was forced to 'behave', like some little, stupid child! Another shot of fury that Irulan hastily suppressed, in fear that it would take over her entire mind. Indeed...the man who had courted her, kissed her, bedded her and not once admitted of this little detail. Oh the decision for the test she could understand. Call it a moment of stupidity. But his hypocrisy of DAYS after she had finally accepted to be his...lover…at his pleading insistence…now that was simply too many chances to turn back that he had declined; too many crossroads he had walked by with uncaring selfishness. 

Suddenly the clock chimed, announcing twelve o'clock. The noise rang through the room over and over again, but neither man, nor woman moved until it ended. They were late for the meeting but at the moment, Irulan did not give a damn. She slid further back into the shadows of her mind, letting the other Irulan take control. It was better this way. Better for everyone. 

When she turned back to Michael, the man shifted to stand more erect, his normally cool eyes alarmed. "Irulan?" he said cautiously and halted, not sure how to continue. 

"We have a duty, don't we?" she said coldly. He just stared at her. "Let's go." 

She strode towards him, trying to clear the jumble in her mind. "But...." he began. 

"Damn it, Michael! What is it now?" 

"You better...wipe your face." 

Irulan stared at him, deep confusion pulsing out of her. She raised her fingers and to her amazement, her cheeks were wet. As if expecting to see blood, she inspected them, wiping the clear liquid between her thumb and her forefinger. A long moment passed like that and it ended with the feeling of his hand on her arm. "Irulan," he said with urgency, "do not falter! You are stronger than that!" Her eyes spoke only of amazement and lack of understanding. His grasp gained some strength as Michael shifted to tilt closer to her. "It is their way!" he hissed and there was sincere fury in that tone. "Elves! Forever now they have dominated and played with us! We are only there because they need us - but are never their equal. Never were and never will be!" Irulan stared into his green depths that spoke of unparalleled envy, frustration and greed. "They play with us like cats plays with mice, Irulan! We have to be strong against them!" 

The third time surprise hit him was when Irulan slowly took her arm back, the elven blankness on her face perfect. She stared at him so long that he swallowed and took a step back. Until this minute her line had been a myth for Michael. At this moment it was utterly real. "You forget yourself Michael," she hissed, a power alien to him pulsating out from her orbs. "I am Aragorn's kin. And I am loyal to those who have been loyal to my line." He swallowed again, unable to stare away. Irulan wiped her cheeks with one, almost dismissive movement, not looking away from him. "NEVER talk like that again, or I will remind you of that fact." A moment passed between them as he blinked and hastily nodded, uncaring if his face reflected the fear in his heart or not. "Now..." she sighed finally, throwing her hair over her shoulder, "lead the way." 

He obliged, looking almost ashamed, and she followed at his heels, the ruins of the person she used to be. 

***

"You were saying, Master?"

Irulan sighed and looked out the window as the cold wind ruffled her long, dark hair. She did not answer immediately. 

"I was saying, I decided to stay," was her reply a moment later. 

Her ever loyal assistants gasped. All three of them. "B-but your Highness," stammered Reason, his large eyes widening even further, "That is most unexpected!" She did not answer, bringing her hand up to massage her face. Such tender tiredness was there. 

"And yet understandable," said slender Wisdom, her dark garments flowing around her immaculate figure, her voice as blank as can be. "Our victory is no victory if it brings no satisfaction."

"Your Highness," Reason began again, his hunch becoming more prominent as he seemed to grow more restless, but Irulan cut him off:

"I said we will stay. Our quest has taken us here and we shall remain to see what Fate wants us to do."

"Your Majesty," began Heart then, her smaller figure squeezing through the overpowering statue of Wisdom and the sneering Reason, "At last we have reached it!" Irulan looked down at the little girl, once again careful not to focus too much and drown those big, incredible eyes. "The end of our never-ending quest."

"Yes, Your Grace," drawled Wisdom, "Even he..." –with that she pointed her head to Reason- "...can not deny that this is it. This is our final destination. We have found and conquered your object of passion since eternity!"

Reason rolled his eyes and gave her a dry look before he turned back to Irulan. "I can not," he exhaled in frustration. "But I was against this whole craziness in the first place! I mean...this quest has no logic to it!"

"It is a quest of the spirit," Heart said, looking up at him with those unreadable eyes. "It has a very sound logic."

"Eh…whatever!" moaned Reason, throwing up his arms and dragging his hunchback figure towards Irulan. His eyes looked incredibly big and round on his old and bald head. "Master! This fortress is yours. You can only win it once. But...it is a cold place, My Queen! My bones hurt in here! It is eerie. And chilly. Not to mention...damn big!" He gave the girl and the woman behind him a meaningful glance, then continued, his eyes glued to hers: "It is a waste of our time. It is not worth owning. Let us depart."

Irulan pursed her lips, gazing out the window once more, to the immaculate architecture of Legolas' fortress. 

"We can not leave now!" broke in Heart, her voice the voice of a child, but her tone far from it. This had always irked Irulan and now she felt uneasy once more, not turning back to lock eyes with this strange creature. "Irulan," she began, and how strange that only she dared to call the warrior by her name, "what of my pain? What of my longing? I feel at home here."

"Perhaps you should stay then!" hissed Reason, overly amused by that idea. 

"Your Highness," spoke up Wisdom's gentle voice, her fabulous slanted eyes focusing on Irulan, "What makes you think that we have a choice?"

Everyone turned to look at her with heavy confusion, but Wisdom only arched a gorgeous eyebrow, her gaze not wavering at all. 

"Here we go again," mumbled Reason, rolling his eyes once more. 

He threw a complaining look at Heart and she mimicked his roll of eyes. "Yes. Somebody translate please!"

"What are you saying?" asked Irulan, annoyed by the never ending secretive ways of Wisdom. 

The woman gave her a look that Anne would, then sighed and pushed a stray lock of her fiery red hair into the loose bun on her head. "I know now that it was folly to think we have conquered the Fortress." Her eyes locked to the Queen once more. "I know now that it has conquered US." That just invoked another string of moans and confused looks between the other three inhabitants of the chamber. "Look...it makes no difference, is all I'm saying," Wisdom sighed then, almost angry. "Our time of decisions has ended. We are free no longer."

"Whatever THAT means," mumbled Reason, then snapped back to Irulan, "Your Highness! This is a treacherous place! It is not made to be conquered by the likes of us. Our kind should have never come out to these plains, if you ask me! Let us leave. There are worthier castles out there."

"But we are NOT out there," broke in Heart, her calm voice bouncing off the walls, "We are here. For it is our Fate to be here. We must find a way of accepting this new place. As it has accepted us."

"I have lost the desire for the battle," murmured Irulan, her gaze fixed on the floor. She did not see the little girl walking up to her and only woke at her brief touch to the forearm of her armor. 

"That is a good thing, Irulan," she said, her eyes incredible and magnetic. "Your battles are behind you now."

All four figures literally jumped when the door was smashed open and a bulky, incredibly handsome man walked in. His long black hair hung in tiny braids to his waist and his dark skin glimmered, like his black armor. The blazing green of his eyes scanned the room before he located Irulan and marched to her, the movement causing a cacophony of sound in the chamber. "My Queen!" he bellowed, as all glided from his path, knowing that he would not stop and rather trample them, "He is dead! He is no more! I say we burn this fortress to its roots and then..."

"One moment please!" broke in Reason, placing his hands on his hips and giving the man who stood twice his height a scolding look. "Stop jumbling everything into one sentence again! Chronological order, please! Who is dead?"

"Trust, Your Majesty!"

Everyone in the room gasped. "What?!" screamed Irulan. 

"Oh no," sighed Heart. 

"Then all is doomed and the final hour has come for each of us," swallowed Wisdom. 

"I knew it! It was only a matter of time!" yelped Reason. 

"This cursed place has done it! Give me your consent, my Queen and I shall rip the foundations of this damned fort! I shall burn stone as if it were wood!" roared Fury. 

Irulan, suddenly feeling incredibly weakened, leaned on the wall as the four figures began a very loud argument. She placed her shaky hand on her face, hearing none of it. Her heart was burning and burning and her mind was falling apart like some child's broken old toy. The incredibly handsome face of Trust floated up to her – his delicate features, his boyish beauty and lofty grace. "No," she whispered, shocked and broken. The quartet did not hear her and continued their fiery argument, engulfed in it completely. "Of all of them...not Trust! Never Trust!" she whispered, her hand digging into the wall for support as the world began a mad dance around her. Her most beloved assistant! Her most precious friend! The one she had guarded so fiercely and treated with such utter gentleness!

"What of Lord Legolas?" said Wisdom finally, crossing her slender arms on her chest. 

"Yes, we should ask him," added Heart eagerly, "He speaks to me like no other does."

"I must say...to me, too," Reason said, scratching his chin. 

"He is a valiant man," nodded Wisdom. 

"You fools!" roared Fury then, his eyes like a green fire, "HE killed Trust!"

A deep silence issued in the room. Irulan could swear that she heard her own heartbeat echoing through the room. "How...can that be?" whispered Heart finally, her big brown eyes moving like some strange liquid. 

"Nonsense!" whispered Reason, sounding more eager to convince himself than any other, "Lord Legolas is no foolish man! Why on earth would he do that?"

Fury crossed his arms on his large chest, giving him an annoyed glare before he turned to Irulan and bowed slightly, "My Queen...I have seen it with my own eyes. Let me light the hottest flames on this..."

"Oh stop it!" broke in Wisdom. "What exactly happened?"

"They shook hands," Fury said dryly, giving her a narrow look.

Another silence. 

"What do you mean?" said Reason slowly. 

"Exactly that. They shook hands and next thing you know, Trust was dead! That man did something! Elf! Whatever! He touched him and whatever that...that creature possesses just killed our delicate friend instantly! All is lost!"

"All is never lost," cut in Heart smoothly.

"And that is not even the bad part!" continued Fury, his eyes fixed on the Queen. 

Irulan swallowed hard, fearing the worst and yet, unable to turn away from it. "Speak, soldier!" she commanded, her voice the voice of a warrior as all snapped to attention in the room. 

"My Queen! Hope has deserted us!"

A dead silence followed. "This is the end of all things," mumbled Wisdom, for the first time looking shaken. 

"Ah she is so impish, that one! She is probably hiding somewhere amongst these walls!" said Reason dismissively, trying very hard to look convinced. And not doing a good job. 

"Yes," broke in Heart, her tone more childish than ever, "Hope would never leave us!"

Fury said nothing, only blistered in silence as he gazed into Irulan's eyes. "She fled from the fortress, My Queen. Our victory is no more."

Irulan swallowed hard, staggering back to the window. Trust, dead. Hope, gone. Everyone else in a constant, chaotic fight. And in the middle of all, Legolas! She took a deep, fuming breath and opened her eyes again. All in the room sensed her mood and stilled instantly. "Where is he?" she seethed.

"Your Highness! It might have been an accident! Lord Legolas is not mad – why would he..." tried the hunchback. 

"He is a kind man, Irulan," cut in Heart, taking a step to the Queen, but not daring to come closer. "Surely there must be an explanation."

"Whether intentional or not, it shows he is dangerous," whispered Wisdom and trembled slightly. "What if the same happens to us with his touch?!"

Everyone in the room stilled, suddenly very uneasy and afraid. "I don't care!" roared Fury, making each jump in fear, "I will rip him to pieces! This...THING will pay for all this! Treacherous creature!" He locked eyes with Irulan once more, "A single word, my Leader! A single word and he will be no more, I promise!"

"To what end?" she sighed and met the gaze of the tall man, who froze momentarily at that reaction. Irulan looked up then, and one by one looked the other three in the eye. "To what end?" None dared to answer and all chose to cast their gazes down in lack of a reply. Irulan exhaled loudly and turned her back to them once more, the wind ruffling her hair again. "I have come all this way. I have marched through desert and mountain, through storm and drought, through fire and ice. To what end?" She swallowed, the agony of her heart gaining a very painful edge. "I am so tired," she sighed, swallowing once again. 

"My Lady," growled Fury once again, "He is dangerous! He is not our match! He will kill us all, one by one." The others gasped at that, but he continued, his eyes boring into her back. "Why wait here for our own doom?"

A long moment passed and Irulan remained very still, her back turned to them, her mind in a frenzy. "Where did she go?" was her final, quiet question. 

"I do not know," seethed Fury, huffing with frustration. 

"We can not survive without her," Irulan said, clenching her jaws. 

"She is where we are not," sighed Wisdom. All gave her an annoyed look and she glared back defensively. 

"Irulan," said the gentle Heart, once again, walking to her side to turn her face up to the Queen. "You are right. We can not survive without her. None of us." The others remained still and anxious. "All is meaningless without her."

"That woman!" roared Fury, "At a time like this!"

"We must find her," Irulan said finally, giving all a long and deep look. 

"Yes," said Reason smoothly, "before Lord Legolas does, too."

Obviously none had thought about that option before and all stared at him agape and with evident alarm. His head swiveled from one to the other and back. Finally he said "It's the reasonable and expected thing of him to do!" with a very natural tone and a shrug. 

"Damn it all!" yelled Fury and stomped his foot on the ground. The castle shook ever so slightly with that action, but none gave it heed. 

"I fear her loss," Heart said solemnly, her dark eyes glued to Irulan's. 

"Not as much as I fear her abandonment of us," whispered a horrified Wisdom. 

"Then we must find her before she can be harmed further!" hissed Irulan. 

"What of the Fortress?" Reason said suddenly. 

"To hell with it!" groaned Irulan and marched passed him, laying her hand on the shoulder of the gigantic man. "Lead the way! This place is home and shelter to us no longer."

"I wish to stay," Heart sighed in a tired manner.

"No," said Irulan and her tone spoke of absolute reign. "We shall never part. Where I go, all will follow."

With that, she strode out of the room, the sounds of her footsteps drowned in the terrible havoc of noise that Fury caused as he strolled down the corridor, his steps shaking the walls of the fortress. 

***


	20. We Fight Together, But Fall Alone

Legolas sat erect in his chair, his eyes on the chair across from him, where Irulan was supposed to sit as representative of the King. Unwillingly, and for the fifth time, his eyes glided to the chair further to his left...the only other empty chair that belonged to Michael. Elizabeth, who occupied the seat next to it, entwined her hands on her lap and was stubbornly looking down at them. He tried to make eye contact with her before -the way she had stormed in was rather peculiar- but she avoided him as if avoiding the plague. 

He knew that it was past twelve now. There was no clock in this room, but there was no need – all elven members had that biological clock ticking in them and right now it was giving them the signal that noontime had arrived and even passed a little. But none gave any indication of the missing couple. They were too well mannered for that. Instead they sat in leisure, relaxed silence, allowing the stillness to calm them for the upcoming subject. 

This was very unlike Michael. And no doubt, very unlike Irulan. The minutes dragged by and none dared to break the silence. As his gaze was gliding back to the seat across the table one more time, the door opened and Michael slid in, followed by Irulan. 

And Legolas wished they had never arrived, after all. 

He barely kept himself from rising from his seat at the look on Irulan's face that spoke of a great torment along with a mighty blankness. This was not like her AT ALL. And this insecure gliding to the seat act was not like Michael AT ALL. Once again his elven mind spun and before he could blink, he knew what had happened. He just knew it. His head snapped to Elizabeth, and all his answers found confirmation at the slight tremble that traveled over her as Michael assumed his place and announced an apology with a low voice to the waiting members. 

The darkness that fell on his mind and spirit defied description. It embedded its sharp claws into his flesh, refusing to be thrown off, tearing tissue and veins with each attempt. Legolas swallowed, his world beginning a slow but steady spin as the realization of his loss became more and more evident in his heart. It was pointless to fool oneself – the heir of Aragorn would not take his deed lightly. As if in confirmation he looked up at the right time to see Irulan's gaze locking with his. Her eyes spoke of nothing. Which meant everything. 

He almost called the meeting off, then. The fate of Cate and Jonathan meant nothing to him at the moment. Neither did the Circle. He cared nothing for the world, to be honest. He was losing Irulan – everything else was very minor compared to that. He felt Haldir stirring beside him then and looked to see the same worries dancing across his face. Actually, almost all elven members in the Council carried a strange expression of understanding, and yet avoiding the understanding out of politeness and respect for privacy. 

"Forgive me for the delay," she said suddenly and all thoughts about rising and ending the meeting suddenly flew away with that unexpected sound. Her voice was cold and distant – a perfect match for her eyes and he was certain that if he had tried, he would have been incapable of imagining Irulan like this. Unwillingly his muscles relaxed back into the seat – with defeat or with lack of strength, he did not know. "We can begin now."

All eyes turned to him, but he stared only into hers, still childishly hoping for a miracle – for a sign that said that he had misread things, that he was wrong and everything is all right. He stared at her for so long, that Irulan felt the need to nudge him. "Lord Legolas?" she said slowly, raising her eyebrows. That aided him in tearing his gaze away and Legolas took a deep breath, praying to the Valar that it would settle the chaos in his mind and in his heart. He nodded silently and swallowed before he spoke. No words had formed in his mind and yet, his mouth opened, his lips and his tongue moved and amazingly, words began to spill out. 

"I open this meeting in hope that we will reach the best and just decision," he said, his voice even and balanced, his tone perfectly elven. He did not look back at Irulan, both out of fear and shame and she did not look back at him, out of sheer anger and frustration. The meeting began as their shadows sat and spoke, but their spirits dived into absolute torment and agony. 

***

"We have seen what it does!" said Michael, his green eyes glancing around the table, carefully avoiding those of Legolas. It was obvious that many were not too fond of him today. He and all present elves had no doubt that this was his last meeting. But he was ready to fight till the end. "This has been repeated too many times! How much more before we see what conflict and pain it represents?"

"For you or for the subjects?" Irulan said suddenly and everyone was caught off-guard at that. It was her first meeting and though she had not taken her official place in the Circle, as his representative, she could speak on Aragorn's behalf any time she wanted to. And to be honest, she was as unusual as all the pre-occupants of that status had been: very passionate, and yet reserved. Patient but threatening. Laid back but determined. In short, Irulan showed all the traits that none had seen her show before – including herself. She had not said a single word since the beginning of the meeting and had remained eerily closed to the discussions. However, now that she had finally decided to speak, her voice said it all. 

"What do you mean?" Michael finally managed to say in a frosty tone, once again regaining his cool.

"I mean," Irulan seethed, giving him a sidelong glance and leaning her elbows on the table, "exactly what I said. For whom is that pain and conflict, Michael?"

A short silence stretched as he glared back at her. "For the couple, of course."

"And how," she said then, almost in a lazy fashion, "would YOU know?" 

The man just blinked in confusion and surprise and Irulan looked at him as if she meant to get up, walk around the table and choke him to death. "We all know," he began cautiously after a thick silence, "that the gift of immortality comes with a heavy price, King-daughter." He swallowed, very annoyed at the necessity of using that phrase for her, then continued calmer, "Cate will suffer much from this. And therefore, so will Analoth..."

"Tell me of this suffering," she cut him off, waving her hand dismissively. 

A long duel of looks began as all other members sat back and observed with patient curiosity. "Are you serious?" he said finally, laughing nervously and glancing at the others to confirm his thoughts concerning how ridiculous this whole thing was. 

Irulan's gaze cut his laughter immediately. "Define suffering," she repeated, this time with a dangerous edge to it. Michael threw one last glance around, but failing to find aid, turned back to her. He shifted in his seat with unease, then folded his hands on the table and began with a tone that seemed like one he would use when explaining the facts of the world to a child. 

"She will most probably loose her mind. Her sanity. She will not be able to adapt to the way of the immortals and her spirit will break, giving much torment both to her and to Analoth. She will confuse reality with illusion, then..."

"Enough," she said dismissively. The man pursed his mouth into a thin line, betraying his anger at being forced to act at her whim. Irulan, it seems, was very determined to use the advantage of her position above him. 

He was right in guessing this, for she was indeed enjoying herself immensely. No elf would act this rude. But then...she was only human. And well...humans had a right to be rude, no? She suppressed a grin at that thought and continued. "Now tell me of the suffering they will go through if she is not granted this wish."

That question caught everyone off-guard and she ignored the heads snapping around to glance at her. No words were spoken for a while and Irulan kept her eyes stubbornly on the man of her duel, ignoring everyone else. This day, she was surprising herself in almost any and every fashion, it seems. This woman who was using her body and her vocal cords...who was she? Irulan knew with certainty that she hated public speeches. That she felt overexposed even in conference staff meetings. And no doubt that she hated to discuss any issue with morons. But the woman that was sitting in her seat seemed to defy all of that. She was neither intimidated, nor nervous. She was not embarrassed, anxious or worried. She knew exactly what she wanted to happen in this meeting and by the looks of it, would do anything to achieve it. 

Michael, completely speechless and finally realizing that with the passing minute had proved his state openly to the whole Council, pursed his lips once more and gave her a look that spoke of pure hatred. Irulan gazed back with a blankness that would make elves jealous. "Your silence can only mean one of two things: One...you have never loved. Or two...you have never lost one that you loved. Which one is it, Michael?"

The reaction that followed would defy a description. Words would simply fail to capture it. A wave ran through the Circle, almost from one end to the other. The most sentimental human members reflected it openly by a gasp, while the more controlled ones, and the elves, showed it merely with a surprised or shocked expression. Her eyes instinctively followed it, gliding over amusement, awe, victory, defeat, anger, glee, envy and support. Her eyes locked on to the blue gaze of Legolas, who had assumed a far more relaxed and controlled pose that made him lean a shoulder on the back of his chair, his head slightly cocked, a slender smile on his perfect lips. 

A very strange thing happened, then. She read such pride, love and support in his eyes that at that moment, for an instant, Irulan forgot what he had done. Her lips claimed freedom, curling into a smile in reply and her eyes refused to give him a furious glare. An incredible exchange took place between them just then and it was too swift and subtle for any other to recognize. 

Irulan had accomplished many things in her own way and standards. Some of those lost their value in time and slipped from her mind. Some still shone with glamour and spark. Moments that had invoked understanding in others. Or consent. Or simply support and joy. Moments she had said or done something and others had been moved by it. Or had been driven to thought by it. And maybe –just maybe- changed for the better by it. And each made her proud. But now, with the look in the eyes of this man, whose opinion of her meant so much more than any other's, all her former accomplishments sank into the depths of unimportance. Legolas was proud of her! Nothing...NOTHING would ever exceed this. Never. 

His smile grew broader and his eyes spoke of such love and adoration that she became suddenly self-conscious and cast her gaze down, her concentration faltering. The sentimental Irulan in the back of her mind stirred, invoked by that gaze and incapable of remaining in disinterest to it. The other Irulan fought to regain her control and return to the present. 

In her attempt to do so, she began to speak swiftly once more. "Honored members of the Council...if there is any among you, who shares the same state of Michael, let him or her come forward."

The silence in the chamber spoke of her absolute victory. Irulan looked up, glancing around. Her face resumed its professional blankness and her tone was very soft but matter-of-fact. "Elves and humans," she said slowly, her eyes still looking from one to the other, "man or woman...we share but the same world and the same burdens." A momentary silence came as she took a deep breath, inspecting the dark surface of the table before her. 

Suddenly Legolas' gentle but steely voice ran in the chamber, making heads swivel in his direction. "King-daughter is proof that wisdom has nothing to do with age. In fact..." he continued, leaning further on the table and giving Irulan –who was still fixed on the table- a long look, "she has proven this to me many times in these past days." A silence continued as he looked away for a moment and then locked eyes with each member. "I have voted against it every time in the past. I know now that it was because I had never tasted true love. It was a word for me. A concept of grave but fabled importance, nothing more. It was my lack of understanding, not my wisdom that made me assume that side of the argument." 

The silence that followed reflected both surprise and yet sorrow. He leaned back, his eyes grazing over the council and lingering on Irulan who was still fixed on the table, a small and sad smile on her lips. That smile was like a dagger to his heart. "If there is anyone who has loved truly..." he began, his voice raw and his eyes focused on her. Irulan refused to meet his gaze and the other elves respectfully glanced away as well, "...he or she will know that all other pain is bearable in the face of the loss of that love. If he or she thinks otherwise, it was not true love and this person's opinion can hold no value in a matter such as this. In either case, we reach the same conclusion." She glanced up and met his eyes then. This day they had fought together and won a big victory. And underneath it all, there was their personal defeat, obvious and undeniable for both. 

"But...just a minute," said Michael then, alarmed, "surely this is not the end of the meeting! Surely there are those who disagree?" His head turned from one end of the table to the other and back, the red hue on his face priceless to many present. "Honored members! I think..."

"I vote in favor," sang Legolas' steely voice through the room, rendering Michael completely speechless. The blue eyes left Irulan and found his. They held the promise of immense torture once the meeting was over, but in his bafflement, the man saw none of it. 

"Lord Legolas!" exclaimed Haldir with mock surprise and protest, "You took the words right out of my mouth!" He grinned at Irulan and she grinned back. 

"I must agree," drawled an amused Maneth. "I think the deduction of King-daughter is very clear and strong."

"No doubt about it," said Irene, twinkles in her eyes as she regarded Irulan. "I, too, vote in favor of her argument."

"You have convinced me as well, daughter of Aragorn," smiled Ednon and nodded his approval. 

"We are proud to have you here with us today. Our argument has never been spoken in better words," said Omar. 

"I, too, vote for you, Irulan," spoke Elizabeth then and her first words of the day send a shock through Michael who was sitting right next to her. She turned and met his gaze evenly, smiling a perfect smile to him. 

So all others nodded and bowed and spoke their agreement. Irulan smiled at all of them, and finally when none other than Michael was left, she turned to fix him with her eyes once more. "I would ask where your vote falls," she said slowly, folding her hands on the table and leaning slightly on it in a leisure fashion, "but at this point, it really doesn't matter much." Her eyes dismissed his red face immediately and she turned to Cate and Jonathan, who seemed to be dead and in Heaven. A small smile bloomed on her face, against all odds. The couple bowed their heads in unison as Analoth brought his fist to his heart in a gesture of appreciation. Irulan smiled broader and bowed her head as well. "Congratulations," she said gently and the table broke into similar words of congratulations and well wishes and future hopes. 

She inhaled gently and swallowed. A mighty load left her shoulders and diluted into nothing. Until this moment, she had not realized how much pressure this whole thing had been exerting on her. And now that she had come, spoken and won, suddenly it seemed an easy task. What was the whole deal about, anyway? A part of her was rather capable at these things, it seemed, and all her tension as to what she would do facing a group like the Circle, dissolved into a silly fear. 

Right in the middle of that satisfaction her gaze collided with Legolas' once more. Amongst all the gentle support and soft expressions of happiness on the behalf of the couple, he stood like a statue, fixed on her. Irulan felt another bolt of fury burying itself into her. She slowly rose to her feet and Legolas imitated her, posed in alarm. Without excusing herself, she walked around the table and did not bother to give him a second look before exiting the room. The elf remained behind, his gaze falling on the surface of the table once more. It was as black as the frustration that sank onto his heart. The members of the Circle had of course witnessed this and were even now witness to his agony. But out of respect and politeness, overlooked it completely, one by one excusing themselves from the meeting and exiting as well. 

Minutes went by and everyone, except Michael, Elizabeth, Haldir and Legolas left. An incredible silence settled into the room and finally Legolas, who was still on his feet, shifted and turned to lock eyes with the man, sitting with his hands entwined on the table. Elizabeth had begun to cry silently, her figure shaking ever so softly. This woke no mercy on behalf of Legolas whatsoever at this moment. "I must admit that you are bold, Michael," he said finally, his voice dead and cold. "The retribution for your act would have discouraged any other."

"Believe it or not, I was not the one to convey it. I arrived just in time when Elizabeth here was speaking to Irulan." The woman's head snapped up as she looked at the man beside her with disbelief, her mouth open, her normally beautiful face all flushed and swollen. Michael did not return the look and kept his eyes on the elf. "The cat was already out of the bag. I tried to convince Irulan not to dwell on it. But she forced me to tell the whole story." He finished his statement with a shrug. 

Legolas' eyes danced to the woman who was still looking at Michael with deep shock. "Is that true, Elizabeth?" he said, his voice like a sharp knife. She flinched and her head snapped around at him, evident fear in her navy eyes. No answer came. "Is it?!" he hissed, his blue eyes boring into her.

"I....I...my lord..." she stammered and broke into sobs again. 

"Answer me!" Legolas roared, his elven voice echoing through the chamber making Elizabeth cry harder. 

"It is!" she yelped, sobbing openly like a little child now. "But I thought...I thought..."

"You see, my lord," cut in Michael smoothly, "the jealousy of women is a dangerous thing. Elizabeth always liked you. This idea of you and Irulan...drove her into needless hateful actions. Not forgivable, of course, but very understandable."

The woman just covered her face and cried harder, all hope lost to her. She did not have the strength or the will to debate with Michael now. Her mind was not functioning, her heart was beating furiously with fear and between these elements, Elizabeth gave in to defeat. 

Legolas shifted to clasp his hands behind his back and push his chin up, giving Michael a long look. "For millennia I have fought for your kind, Michael," he said, his voice calm but cold. "Never have I regretted it. Against all the foulness that it can show, my actions did not falter. Nor will they falter from now on." He leaned on the table and suddenly incredible threat and danger pulsed out of him, making both mortals gasp and lean back in unease. "You played your part in this game perfectly. Perfect – with the assumption that I am blind and senile. But..." and his eyes literally blazed as the man slowly got up from his chair, his face pale and his hands shaking, "...I am neither. I assure you, you will feel enough regret for the both of us, Michael."

Legolas did not move but nevertheless, the danger he was posing became larger and larger and the man took a hasty step away from the table, now shaking visibly. Elizabeth had stopped crying and her face betrayed deep shock as she stood fixed on Legolas, her mouth open, her eyes bulging out of her visage. 

Haldir chose this moment to stand up as well and place a hand on his friend's shoulder, even though it was a dangerous thing to do. "And so it shall be, Legolas," he said gently, trying to divert the elf's gaze to himself. "I will take care of it. Do not waste time here."

The Prince clenched his jaw and the atmosphere in the room became incredibly tense as he refused to look away from Michael who had taken another step back. A moment passed. Then another. His eyes left the pathetic man and the gaze of the elves locked, giving Michael and Elizabeth room to breathe once more. Ignorance is a bliss. For if they had come face to face with this kind of power before, none would have dared to go against the world of an elf. Seeing them so often and dealing with them in many things often blinded the Circle members to the true nature of the Firstborn and how dangerous they could be if they chose. "Go, Legolas," Haldir whispered, not blinking as his friend continued his stare for several moments. Until the words sank in and he tore his gaze away, focusing on the table again. 

"Can I trust you with this?" he said, not diverting his eyes. 

"Absolutely," said Haldir and threw the woman and the man a short glare. "If anything, you will find my punishment too severe, I promise you."

Legolas nodded and without looking back, strode out the room. Haldir crossed his arms on his chest then and lazily assumed his seat, his cold blue eyes wandering over Michael. "Sit, Michael," he said loftily. The man did not respond. "Now," growled the elf and if such a thing was possible, his eyes became deadlier than those of the Prince in an instant. The man, very much like a puppet, drifted to his chair and sank into it, his face as white as Elizabeth's. "It will be a long day for you," Haldir drawled, very determined to keep his promise to the Prince. "And I do not want you to collapse with exhaustion until I am done with you." 

***

There was a knock on the door. Irulan ignored it. Another knock came. "Irulan, please open the door," came his pleading voice. To her own amazement, it woke nothing in her. The voice that had whispered such praises to her. And such comforting wisdom. But also the voice that had lied to her. Over and over again.

The knock was repeated. She did not give it heed, and a moment later the door broke in with a mighty cracking sound and Legolas walked in. She gave him an awed look, then at the door that hung at its hinges, then back at him. They stared at each other for a moment, blue locking into brown, will locking into will. Then she just turned away with disinterest, continuing her task. 

"What are you doing?" he said with perfect horror, his looks glued to the sweater she was about to stuff into the suitcase that was standing on the couch. It was a silly question – since Legolas was very aware what she was doing. She pretended not to hear him and placing her hair behind her ear, found a t-shirt to tuck in next. "Irulan...please...listen to me," he managed to say finally, taking the last steps to stand behind her. 

She turned to him, very calm and cold. "Yes, Legolas?" He swallowed softly, his mind a frenzy. 'I will kill Michael,' he thought silently. 'I will kill him anyway. Just for the pleasure of it.' 

"You must forgive me," he whispered, the dread going into full bloom in his mind. "You must..." She was surprised when the slap actually landed on his cheek. It would have never happened to someone like Legolas, for he would have seen it coming miles away. He had, of course, seen it and not stopped her, taking the sharp blow. She swallowed softly, many sentiments flying through her at the same time. The ridiculous regret of having hurt him. The greed to hurt him further. The need to run into his arms and cry her eyes out. The determination of NEVER touching him again. 

He turned and looked at her, and contrary to her expectation, it was not a blank face but an expression of deep sorrow that adorned his features. "I deserved far more than that," he whispered. To her own amazement she placed a second slap on the same cheek and it was harder than the first time. Legolas did not look at her this time, keeping his gaze down. It was his first slap in his entire life and he could not imagine himself allowing such a thing to anyone else. Anyone else who would have attempted to slap him would not only have failed, but that person would be in the middle of a grave physical punishment at this point. 

She remained shocked and at the same time very much relaxed, observing the pink color spreading on his perfectly smooth skin, then swirling and diminishing in much shorter time than it did in humans. When he locked eyes with her again, the residue had almost completely vanished from his cheek, but was evident in his eyes. He said nothing. 

"I will not tire myself further," she said then, her voice frosty as can be, and turned to walk away again. To her amazement, he materialized right before her, blocking her path. Irulan blinked momentarily, her surprise at the speed of the movement overshadowing all else. 

"I was saying," he began calmly, "that you must understand what pushed me to such an action." 

She moaned and turned away in disinterest, grasping another clothing piece from the armchair on which everything seemed to be spilled, and stuffing it into her suitcase. Her hand went out to a pair of jeans, but before she could grasp those, he tore it away from her, throwing it into the corner of the room. "Stop it, Legolas!" 

She threw a sweater into the suitcase and he snatched it out and threw it right next to the jeans an instant later. "You are not leaving," he said, as calm as ever. 

"Watch me," Irulan seethed and seemingly unaffected by his attitude, continued picking up articles and throwing them into her case. The elf observed her in silence for a moment, then calmly grasped the suitcase and with the ease of throwing a baseball, threw it into the same corner. 

Feeling overly frustrated and annoyed, Irulan swung her hand for another slap and with lightning speed he caught it. She bore her eyes into him, fury dancing in them. Legolas slowly raised her hand and kissed her palm, never breaking eye contact even once. Irulan felt the faintest of flames kindling in her at the feel of his lips on her skin, but hastily pushed it away. She harshly pulled her hand back and he let go - mainly so that she would not end up hurting herself by pulling her arm out of her socket. With a final glare, Irulan marched to the corner that held her suitcase and began to pick it up. It was damn heavy and it required some good acting on her behalf to pretend being unaffected by the weight while lifting it up. 

Legolas was before her once more and she almost bumped into him. "Allow me to help," he said softly and before she could utter a protest the suitcase was torn from her hands and gracefully thrown out the open window. 

This time her mouth DID drop open as she watched her clothes make a graceful and soft descent on the lawn. Out of sheer shock she ran to the window and saw the articles scattered all over the lawn. Two servants glanced curiously up and found her staring back at them. Turning red with anger and shame Irulan turned around to the utterly calm and composed Legolas. "Greenleaf!" she yelled, despite herself while he gave no indication of hearing at all. "You...you..." 

Finding no words to express her fury, Irulan marched by him into the adjoining room where the rest of her stuff and her bag stood. She was literally seeing the world red and she did not know if she was more angry or helpless. The fact that nothing stood between her and this creature other than his control and manners blinked in her mind. Legolas could do anything he wanted and there was no way she could stop him. He followed, his eyes glued to her. Now feeling more afraid than angry, she took a step back. Then another and then her back ran into the console with the large mirror. 

The elf did not move until then, and when she finally came to a silent stop and seemed to be in a state to listen to what he had to say, he took a deep, tired breath and exhaled, his gaze wandering around the scattered articles in the bedroom. "What I did was foolish," was his solemn and matter-of-fact statement that betrayed nothing of their battle merely moments ago - he spoke as if they had just begun to speak. "Nothing can undo it now. I regret it with all my heart, but I do not have the means to change it." Irulan pushed up her chin and gave him a sour and cool look. He took a slow step into the room, his eyes fixed on her. "Allow me to explain," he whispered with urgency. 

She shrugged nervously, intimidated by his persistence and his overpowering strength. "Explain," she managed to choke out, crossing her arms on her chest with disinterest and trying to look as unafraid as possible, but probably failing. 

Legolas swallowed softly, his eyes gaining another shade of pain. "It is true. I have engaged in a test." He halted. This sounded terrible! Now that he spoke it, it sounded unforgivable. He only hoped that Irulan did not share his view. "I thought...I had lost hope. In the world. In humanity. Even in Estel," he finished with a whisper. She looked away, pursing her lips. "The world has changed. I thought..." 

A momentary silence. Irulan cut in. "So you thought you should play with me like a cat plays with a mouse." Her tone was as blank as his expression used to be. And that did not become her at all. 

"No!" he hissed. Unconsciously his fingers rolled into fists under her sheepish look. "Yes, I meant to test you. And yes, I WANTED you to fail. But I never played with you." 

The look in her eyes gained incredible anger and not knowing what else to do, she grasped a shirt that had been lying on the console and threw it onto the bed with fury. "Enough, Legolas! Please, spare us at least this embarrassment!" 

His eyes followed her irrational deed, a slight confusion in them, then found hers and returned to the present argument. "You must understand that-" 

"I understand one thing..." she hissed, taking a step towards him, "...I understand that you almost went insane because I made up a David. Something that did no harm to anyone! And I am supposed to sit back and applaud you when you decide that I should be your next subject of amusement! Yes, THAT I understand." She was heaving now and the sad look in his blue eyes did not make it any less. At all. "I also understand that I was a foolish, foolish human, Legolas. Stupid and weak. And that you were the smart one. The strong one. The ever-knowing one." Her brown eyes spoke of incredible fire, but Legolas held it evenly. "I understand, yes. I wish I had done so, earlier." 

With that, she spun around and advanced on the console, opening the drawers to pull out things she had not packed yet. Legolas took another deep breath. At this point, he felt as if he were dealing with a child. For someone of his age and inexperience in the matter of raising children, it was very frustrating to say the least. " I have never lied to you," he said both with determination and gentleness. "I made a mistake - I should have told you a long time ago." 

"But I suppose then you couldn't have enjoyed my silly pledge, Legolas!" she spat back. 

He swallowed hard. "I never took advantage of that, Irulan." 

"And I am very grateful," she said in mock admiration. "However," -and her tone grew tangibly bitter again- "now I must go!"

"You cannot leave," was his final statement and the tone was so calm that Irulan actually felt a certain fear and turned to lock eyes with him. 

"I can do whatever I want, Greenleaf!" 

He took a step towards her. "You will NOT leave," he said, the tinge of command ringing in his tone. 

"You can not keep me here." 

"I can," he said a long moment later and her eyes grew wide. "And I will. Forgive me, I cannot let you go." 

"What?!" Legolas just stared back at her with utter calmness. "Are you insane?! This is not your Mirkwood palace! You cannot force me so!" 

"I know that it is most unbecoming, yes. But all aside, the Sharing is too new. You are my responsibility now and I will not let you walk into danger. So I must do whatever it takes to keep you." 

She just stared at him, agape. True, the after-shock of the Sharing was very nasty. And no doubt that it would come to her if she left the company of elves. But the fury of her line was not a lightly thing. At this moment Irulan did not care if both Joan of Arc and Arwen came to haunt her forever. Her expression gained an even frostier edge to it. NO ONE would imprison her. "There is the law and-" 

"Your laws do not bind me," was his dismissive interruption. 

"Legolas! You can't force me to stay! What good will come of that?" 

He took a deep breath and looked away for a moment. "You will stay until I have begged enough for you to forgive me, Irulan. You are furious now...and confused. It will pass, my heart, and you will see that my deed is terrible, but not unforgivable." Their eyes locked and he took another step. "I will do ANYTHING," he whispered in urgency. 

"No." Her answer was flat and blank. "I don't care what it will do to me. I need to leave. Leave you." She waved her arm, including the room. "This place. This life. I need to step back and re-think everything." 

His breath caught with that suggestion. A moment passed between them and unknown to each other, each thought how their gentle and precious love had changed into this...terrible, ugly thing. "You may not care. But I do," was his final, almost inaudible statement. "Though it may mean to taste the cut of your fury, I will not step back on this. You will remain." He took a deep sigh, frowning and looking away as well. "I was stupid, yes. I was selfish. I deny neither. But all my feelings for you were sincere."

There are times and moments in life when you know that you are making a mistake. You simply KNOW. You know that you should never engage in this or that action and the dark foreboding of the outcome is clear before your usually clouded eyes. And yet, you do it anyway. Perhaps it is divine intervention. Maybe it's the Powers above freezing the moment and saying, "There is yet time to turn away from that action, that utterance. There is yet time to undo what should never be done. And the choice is right here. Right now. We even give you a warning. Yet...if you choose to do it anyway...there will be no one left to blame but your own sorry self." 

And most of the time, you do it anyway. 

This story -as every other story, actually- is a collection of such mistakes and their consequences. If Legolas had stepped back from his elven dominance -which, by the way, is understandable for someone of his race, age and status- and given Irulan the option...even the ILLUSION of an option, everything would have taken a completely different direction. Perhaps she would not have stayed, but her parting would have been in a different spirit and her love and longing for Legolas would have overcome her doubts about the whole affair in a short time. 

As it was, all Irulan felt was the incredible torment of being backed into a corner. All her life she had been independent. She was coming from a long line of independent people. And this day, a man told her that she could not do this or that, and that she would obey – whether she liked it or not. He might be right. He might be doing it with the best intentions. But this moment, it made no difference at all. Any doubts that she had about what was wrong with this whole affair -more than the fact of the mistrust she felt for Legolas the Manipulator at this point- grew threefold at his attitude. 

Her decision after that was surprisingly easy. 

She sighed in frustration and turned back to the console, leaning on it. An interlude of silence found its way between them once more and Legolas did not dare to break it, remaining on his spot and battling his own inner demons. The demons that spoke of his rudeness at such a decision. And elf imprisoning a woman! Whoever heard of such a thing! It was disgusting. It was simply an unforgivable sin. A true weakness. And yet...the idea of losing Irulan was so horrible, that he was ready to walk into this shame and let it cover him entirely. "I know that you would not lie about that," was her final, slow reply. 

"Then you must believe that I love you!" he said with urgency, stepping closer still. "That I value you beyond anything!" 

"Yes I do," Irulan said with a tired voice and massaged her face as she turned around to lean on the console, crossing her arms on her chest once more. 

"Irulan...what we have come to share is not a thing to be thrown away leisurely. I know for I have lived long enough to see that." He took a cautious step towards her, his eyes seeking hers. "I cannot live without you," he whispered, swallowing softly. "I beg you...do not desert me so. Every word I uttered this day was real. Will you deny us what we have granted Cate and Analoth?" he said, his eyes holding her absolutely. "Love justifies everything," he whispered suddenly, his blue eyes blazing as he cautiously stepped even closer, now only an arm's length from her. "You once said so. It does not excuse my actions, yes, but it explains them." 

"Love justifies everything," she repeated as he slowly and carefully placed his hand on her shoulder. He deftly exhaled in relief when she did not pull away. "But...is love enough, Legolas?" He remained baffled for a moment or two as their eyes locked. He did not know what to say. He did not even know if he was capable of saying anything. The pain in him built up to incredible degrees and the elf remained focused on her, his grasp on her shoulder unconsciously growing. 

'How about trust?' she wanted to say. 'What is love without trust?' The memory of their conversation in the misty hills of Europe came to her. The moment he had pleaded for her to trust him. And how he had said that her trust would be his guide. As he would be hers. Irulan swallowed, for the first time in hours the threat of tears ringing in her. "I need time," she said a long moment later, turning her back to him as the mirror on the console reflected her profile with her head cast down.  

"I understand," he whispered, gliding to stand behind her as he placed his other hand on her shoulder as well. 

"This whole thing...happened too fast. I did not get the chance to think at all. I need to think." 

"Yes, you are right." His hands glided down to her waist, embracing her very loosely and cautiously as he dared a lingering, soft kiss on her temple. His heart exploded with joy when she did not move away. Legolas closed his eyes and embraced her a little stronger. A short silence passed between them as they stood in the bright and silent room, the warmth of their bodies mingling and making the elf desire for more. "I dare not let you go. Stay here," he whispered then, combing through her hair lazily while his other hand kept the embrace. Irulan pursed her lips and chose not to answer. "Stay and I will not interfere with your ways. This castle is big enough for the both of us," he grew more hopeful when she remained reluctant and pressed on. "You can stay in the western wing and choose not to see me at all." 

"Why can't I leave?" she said then, but her hand rested on the arm that was encircling her and that action numbed the reaction to that question. 

"If we had not Shared so recently, I would only ask the promise of your return and let you go," he sighed, placing another kiss on her temple. 

"I cannot promise such a thing," Irulan said a long moment later and Legolas froze momentarily. "Therefore I will stay," she added, hoping that the haste in her voice was not too obvious. It apparently wasn't, because the elf relaxed quite a bit behind her and proved it with a final, strong embrace during which he placed his head on the back of hers. 

"Thank you, Irulan," he said finally, pulling back reluctantly as she turned to look up at him. "You will not regret it, I promise." 

Irulan smiled a broken smile and they both remained in that state for a moment. A moment after that she rose on her toes and embraced his shoulders. Legolas, caught rather off-guard by that, only managed to embrace her back. "Thank you, too. For everything." His shock only deepened when Irulan kissed him swiftly, tentatively gliding her tongue over his lips. If the joy and relief of the moment had not been blurring his keen sense of observation, he would have recognized a kiss of goodbye right there and then. But in his ruined and wounded state, all he felt at the touch of her lips was pure bliss. He embraced her stronger and kissed her back, his lips speaking of gratefulness and glee and desperation at the same time. All his anger, all his pain, regret and alarm was washed away and the most incredible feeling lingered behind - hope. 

For many moments he kissed her hungrily and Irulan complied with gentle understanding. Even when Legolas placed urgent kisses on her cheeks and her neck, speaking words of love and gratefulness, she remained pliable and smiling. Finally, after a last and far more gentle kiss on her lips Irulan broke away and remained, her eyes cast down. 

He sighed and understood that his time was over for now. He took a respectful step back, his eyes still on her. "I will go and have them prepare the western wing for you," he said with a hoarse voice. The sorrow in his tone was replaced by incredible joy and he smiled brightly when Irulan nodded in silence. Another moment passed as he nodded back, and then Legolas strode out, the smile on his face refusing to disappear as he took silent and large steps down the hall, then ran down the stairs. 

Irulan waited a long moment, then walked to the door and peered out. She sighed in relief at his absence. Then she gave the broken door another look and finally walked back to her location by the bed. She did not stop there, though, and took another two steps that brought her to the mirror and the stand with all the open drawers and the scattered items on top. Her fingers glided to the silver spark she had seen underneath the sweater a few minutes ago and she fished out the keys to the rented car that everybody else, including herself, had forgotten about until moments earlier. 

She took a deep breath and unconsciously her eyes glided to the mirror, locking onto her own brown orbs. "Remain, Irulan," she said and it looked as if the reflection itself had spoken. 'Remain. Mistakes are made and unmade. Such a thing is not enough to destroy what you have.'

Indeed, it was not. For anyone else other than Aragorn's heir it was but a silly thing, soon to be forgotten. But not for her. For if anything was evident in her as well as the rest of her line, it was that damnable, blind, fiery pride. The pride that roared like a mighty flame whenever she thought back on how much of a fool she was made to look like all of this time. 

She sighed and closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose and inhaling softly. In her heart, Irulan knew that all her heroic resistance was foolish. She loved Legolas, no matter what. She knew of his regret, as well as the sincerity of his heart. But Anne was right – he had manipulated her. Even now, he was manipulating her. Ruling her, just like he had ruled kingdoms. She might have conquered his heart, but he had invaded her life. She would never be the Irulan she had been. Never again would she have a say over her own life like she used to. Perhaps most women would not mind that because of what they received in exchange. But not Irulan. For she was forever the daughter of a King. And a warrior at heart. 

"All I need is...time," she sighed. "Time and solitude. I need to think. I...need to think." It was only true. No one should be expected to change in a matter of days and walk into unknown territory with nothing but the word of a man. Not to mention, the word of a man who had played with her! Hastily she suppressed the thought, lest it pushed her in another episode of blinding fury. "I need to distance myself and think what the hell I am doing!" Yes. Legolas did not understand. In his own panic and alarm, he was ready to walk over everything and everyone –including Irulan herself- to keep her. Like any other man! 'How typical!' she thought in frustration. "He does not understand. Fine. He does not NEED to understand. For I answer no one. No Prince and no Lord!"

Here she was, the same Irulan who had gained so many and so much just days ago, and lost them all in a matter of hours. Who had lost even further than what she had gained. For now she was utterly alone. With no friends. No lover. No support whatsoever. "Haldir, Anne, Legolas...all, all of them. They all deceived me! Played me behind my back." A terrible dread came over her as the sting of betrayal sunk deeper and deeper, like dark purple poison swirling in a glass of water. "Everyone I loved, has betrayed me," she mumbled, feeling tears stinging in her eyes. 

"Not everyone," soothed her inner voice then and she blinked at the intrusion. "Not everyone has, Irulan. There are those that have been brutally open and honest with you at all times."

A slow but steady understanding sank onto her then as she stared at her reflection and her reflection stared back at her. A moment later she grabbed her jacket, checking its pockets. She threw it away when they proved to be empty. Her jeans followed next. And then the cotton pants and...voila...she fished out a crumbled napkin, folded over and over again. A breath of relief and victory was taken and Irulan felt as if she had found hope amongst the ruins of destruction once more. Baeron! Suddenly the tender pull of their bond became much more evident. A bond that would never break – not with time, nor with hardship. She placed it hastily into her bag along with her now fully charged cell phone. 

A knock at the door made her jump up, her heart beating furiously. "Miss Irulan?" 

"Yes? I'm in the bedroom," she said with a shaky voice. A servant glided in and, trying very hard not to stare at the chaotic state of both chambers, he slightly bowed to her. 

"I believe this is yours," he said politely, putting the suitcase on the floor. It was shut but looked like it held all her scattered articles. He gave her a long, blank look that spoke of suppressed curiosity. No doubt that this was a first in this castle. 

"Yes. Thank you," was the sole reply. He nodded and exited, leaving the broken door open of course. Only then did Irulan exhale in relaxation and grabbed the suitcase, dragging it onto the bed. She was about to stuff it full once more, when she halted and remained with the clothes in her hands, staring down at it. Suddenly a grin spread over her lips. "I don't need these things," she said leisurely. Funny, but Legolas had been right - the feeling of freedom and comfort that overcame her with that realization was amazing. She glanced one last time at the room, then put on a jacket, stuffed the contents of her bag into the pockets, throwing the bag itself on the bed, and walked out. On her way she met servants who eyed her warily. It was easy to see that they had already been warned not to let her leave. With satisfaction she saw them taking an overall look at her, then look away, persuaded that she was not leaving – since she had no suitcase and not even a bag with her. 

Irulan stepped out into the backyard just at the entrance met another servant. He gave her a hasty overall look, then somewhat relieved, asked: "Miss...are you lost?" 

"Oh no," she said, smiling gorgeously. "I want to take a walk. I have not been in this garden before." Her eyes swept over the beautiful garden and to the right, where the parking lot was and where her rented car was gleaming dully under the bluish light of the day. Keeping total disinterest on her face she frowned and looked over to the dense forest bordering the garden. "Is there a path that leads into the woods?" 

He smiled in understanding. "There is one right there!" He pointed towards the right. "Keep to your right and you'll come out close enough to the castle. It is a wonderful walk through there." 

"Yes, so it must be," she said, looking him in the eye. "When is the afternoon tea to be served?" she asked to further numb his suspicion. 

He hastily looked at his watch. "In about an hour, miss." 

"Very well," grinned Irulan, "I shall be back by then." The man smiled and bowed lightly, then entered the house while she briskly began to walk to the path that happened to be in the same direction with the parking lot. She glanced a final time around her to be certain that no one else was in sight, then hastily ran up the last steps to the car and stepped in. Her heart was beating ferociously and to her demise, her fingers were shaking. But thankfully she managed to stick in the key and turn on the ignition right away. The sound seemed awfully loud in this silence, but she knew that it was only in her mind, for no one else would get suspicious about such a thing. 

She drew out of the parkway and with a final glance towards the castle, drove off and away. She never looked back. 

***

At the airport she threw worried glances around, afraid that Legolas had found out and ordered his chopper, making it here before her. 'Don't be stupid! A helicopter has to be requested ahead. He can't snap his fingers and step into that sort of thing!' said her inner voice. That made her relax a little. Until the scenario of him driving here with one of those monster cars and his incredible skill and perhaps a shortcut occurred to her. 'Relax, woman! He can not drag you away! This is the 21st century!' Yes but...there was nothing 21st century about Legolas. Especially not now. An even more dreadful thought was that he actually did not HAVE to be here in person. He could just make a few phone calls and Irulan would never find a ticket to anywhere on the planet and she would be forced to sit and wait for him to arrive to pick her up. 

She hastily called Baeron's first number. No answer. She then realized that one of the numbers was his cell number and skipped the others to dial that one. It rang once. Twice. The third time, his voice appeared on the other end. "Adam speaking." 

"Baeron, it's me," was her rather shaky statement. 

He recognized her voice immediately. "Irulan! How wonderful to hear from you!" She did not answer and he sensed the reluctance right away. "Are you all right? What is the matter?" was his cautious question. 

"I...no!" She massaged her face, now feeling everything crashing down on her. "I need your help," she whined almost pathetically. 

"Of course," he said then with suppressed worry in his tone. "Where are you?" 

"At the airport. I...I don't know what to do!" she said and to her utter horror began to cry. 

"Are you injured? What is wrong?" This time he made no attempt to suppress his worry and the anxiety rang freely. 

She took a deep, shaky breath, finally spotting the sales booth and beginning to walk towards it. "No...nothing like that. I just...I have to leave. Immediately." 

"All right," he said, calming down a little. "Do you have money?" 

"Yes, I do." 

"Good. I would call to take care of it but it would take more time. Is there an immediate flight to France?" 

She checked the boards but before she could complete the task, it was her turn at the booth and she ran up to the clerk, repeating the question. "No," she sniffed. "No more flights to France today." 

"Where to in Europe is the earliest available plane?" 

Another conversation with the woman. "There is one boarding now. To Madrid." 

"Take it," he ordered. "I will meet you there as soon as possible." 

She gave the woman her credit card and waited for the processing. "How will you meet me?" 

"Go to the hotel Orfila. Give them my name - Adam Greymane. I will come in a matter of hours." 

"Do you have my number?" she sniffed as she took her ticket and began to run towards the exit of her plane. 

"I have it now. It's on my screen. Irulan...don't worry. Whatever it is, I'll fix it," was his determined statement. 

"Thank you," she whispered before she turned off the phone and ran the last steps to deliver her ticket and passport. 

It was the second grave mistake of the day – this time on her behalf. Unknown to her, her choice that seemed so natural and innocent at the moment, would become a turning point in the flow of the river that men call Fate. Irulan would float in the new direction she had chosen for herself, dragging the rest of the cast and the entire story with her into the mad dance of waves and foam. 

***


	21. Alice in a Minefield

Someone asked me what Baeron looked like if I had to resemble him to anyone. In my mind, he looked a lot like Brad Pitt. Actually that was strange, because I am not a swooning fan of his. But no matter what, there is no denying his beauty as a human being. And I found his looks fitting for Baeron's humor and smooth attractiveness. And.it may be helpful to understand why anyone would have such a hard time refusing him, I suppose. Ha ha.  
  
Other than that - thank you so much for the support! I received incredible reviews and amazing personal mails regarding this story. I am humbled to know that I have -no matter how slightly- managed to touch this or that person's life. No words could express my awe and bafflement. Therefore, I will not try.  
  
***  
  
She cried all the way to Spain - sometimes sobbing silently, sometimes just shedding tears and in between, taking deep breaths and gathering strength for the new crying episode. The sadness in her heart seemed to grow with the distance between herself and Legolas. Momentarily it occurred to her that she was acting rather changed compared to her former ways. Here she was, on a PLANE (and God knows how much she disliked these things!) going to MADRID to meet BAERON! At a time when she had to be back for work in New York! It was very un-Irulan-like indeed! She took a deep breath and sipped a little from her wine. Yes, she was having that damnable wine again! 'Who cares! I can drink all I want!' she snorted and took a bigger gulp.  
  
In Madrid she already felt a little drunk and better for it. Sighing heavily and lacking her usual enthusiasm for being in a new city, she walked out of the plane, through the corridors and to her amazement, right into Baeron's arms! Irulan blinked with surprise as he embraced her stronger and placed a kiss on her forehead before he pulled her back to take an overall look. "Thank the Valar!" he sighed and embraced her again.  
  
"When did you arrive?" she mumbled into his chest, finding that to be the only thing to say at the moment.  
  
"About an hour ago. I found a flight immediately."  
  
She relaxed then and sank into his chest, allowing him to caress her back gently. To her dismay, she felt like crying again and swallowed hard to suppress the temptation. Nevertheless, Baeron sensed her agony and continued his soothing comments for a few more minutes. A second time he pulled her away by the shoulders, giving her face a long look. Irulan tried to smile at him while she wiped the future tears off her eyes. "I must look a mess!" she said, laughing softly.  
  
"You look like someone who wants to look like a mess...but fails terribly," was his gentle and slightly amused reply, accompanied by a slow smile. Irulan laughed somewhat louder and he cupped her face, locking his hazel eyes with hers. "Come," was the only statement and she obeyed it willingly, letting the elf grasp her hand and pull her away from her past.  
  
***  
  
They did not speak in the cab, nor at the hotel. Only when they received the key to their room and were finally in its confinement did he become solemn again. He threw his jacket on the armchair to approach and stand before Irulan, his fingers gently caressing her cheek. "Now," he said with peculiar calmness and determination, "you must tell me what happened."  
  
She nodded and followed his example, shedding her jacket. She sank into one of the large green and comfy armchairs and Baeron took the one across from hers, sitting erect and alert. "I feel kind of bad now," she sighed and bit her lower lip. "I mean...it seems foolish now...it's nothing terrible. And you came all the way from…"  
  
"Forget about that," he said in a dismissive tone. "I would have come just to say hello. And something that made you cry like this MUST be terrible," was the slow addition.  
  
She nodded, casting her eyes down. Baeron's fingers laced with hers. "Go on. You can tell me anything, Irulan."  
  
"I know," was the quiet reply, but she did not meet his heavy gaze. With one final breath, she began her story. Beginning with her arrival in England and the reason for it. Then her rather disappointing meeting with Legolas. And afterwards their annoying exchange which ended with her being dragged to the trip. An overall summary of their relationship followed and included the pledge - though not the reason for it. The tale ended with her discovery and her leaving. As she spoke out the whole experience, once again the anguish slowly faded into anger. Not to mention, shame. She felt stupid. And very naive. And most of all - betrayed.  
  
"So I called you," she sighed after almost an hour during which Baeron had not spoken a single word. The late afternoon sun had grown dull and a dimness had set in. Many hours had passed since she left England and Legolas must have been very aware of her departure by now.  
  
The elf did not say anything for another string of minutes, continuing to caress her fingers with his and looking at the carpet. So long, but yet so calming was the silence, that she momentarily forgot that he would reply at all and delved into the thoughts of her own recollections. "Irulan," he began cautiously then, waking her up, "are you certain that you made the right choice?"  
  
"What do you mean?" she asked timidly.  
  
He gave her a long look and placed his elbows on his knees. "No one is perfect. Neither are elves. You should not expect more from Lord Legolas."  
  
Her lips pressed into a thin line at that and her brown eyes began to cinder with a slow fury. "I don't expect perfection!"  
  
"He made a mistake, nobody -including himself- disagrees on that," Baeron continued gently. "But no mistake should be unforgivable. You are more generous than that."  
  
"ONE mistake?!" She gave him a disbelieving look. "He did not tell me about it ALL that time! Days, Baeron! AND he allowed me to make the pledge. STILL not revealing it! AND he took me as a lover. STILL not…-"  
  
"All right," Baeron said, the left side of his lips curving up, "he made several. But at that point he would have done anything not to risk losing you. Which action, by the way, I understand completely."  
  
Her mouth dropped open and she stared at him, at a loss of words. Baeron waited and watched her expression slowly melting into fury as Irulan tried to retrieve her hand from his. He folded his other hand on it as well then and chuckled, shaking his head. "I know that you will disagree. But I find his test with the Circle no mistake. Similar tests have been performed on almost all candidates of important positions throughout history - rulers, applicants to certain orders, groups and cults of any and every nature. EVERY person is tested for this or that all their lives, are they not? Your schools today test you before you can continue with your education, no?" When Irulan scoffed and looked away, he continued gently: "As a matter of fact, they are performed on all human members of the Circle, you know that. The descendants of your line are the only exception." She did not meet his gaze, staring at the carpet and thinking how damn convincing he sounded. "You should not fear a test anyway. You have it in you to pass all. As you have in this case," Baeron finished softly.  
  
"I was played with, not tested!" she spat finally.  
  
"Tests of silent and secret nature are not uncommon, either. For them not to warn you was no sign of a game, Irulan. It only guarantees honesty on behalf of the subject."  
  
"Baeron! I mean...SEDUCE me?!"  
  
This time his laughter rang freely in the room and she jumped slightly, gazing at him with deep surprise at the sound of it. "Now that," he said, laughing harder, "is truly far more eccentric than what I would expect from Lord Legolas!" His laughter only increased further when she tried to pry off her hand in anger again.  
  
After moments of struggle she gave up and huffed to sit back on the armchair, annoyed but also very pleased at the relieving sound of his joy. It ceased then and to her surprise, he kissed her hand. She could not help turning to glance at him with that action and realizing how majestic Baeron looked. Despite the fact that he was only her friend, she felt her heart beating stronger when his sparkling eyes focused on her.  
  
"Lovely Irulan," he said finally, cocking his head slightly to the right, "I see nothing unforgivable here. I understand your hurt and your anger. And yes, perhaps you should give yourself some time. However, eventually your road seems obvious to me."  
  
"No!" she said stiffly. "I am free not to walk that road! I am not a toy of Fate!"  
  
"Alas, we are ALL toys of Fate," he said slowly, as if speaking to a child.   
  
"What I mean is..." She exhaled in frustration and massaged her face before she continued: "I need time. I need to think." She looked up to see him observing her in concentration. "Do not ask me to be wise and mature now." He smiled a sad smile and she rolled her eyes. "Or ever, for that matter!" Baeron chuckled then, caressing her hand once more. "Maybe we have no say in the flow of things once they are set in motion," Irulan sighed and caressed her chin with the back of her free hand, gazing unconsciously out the window to the bluish Madrid sky. "But I believe that every now and then we are given the luxury of choice. Of…a crossroad." She sighed and glanced back at him, as he sat silent and attentive in his chair. "It is true that I love Legolas. But…I am not a woman to throw away all for a sentiment, Baeron. I need other things as well."  
  
He kissed her hand again, his manner warm and supportive. "You think I do not, but I understand, my friend. Love is a large palette. There are many colors and hues to it." She smiled a tired but relieved smile at him and he returned it, his eyes twinkling. "Are you at a crossroad, Irulan?" came his soft and cautious question, many minutes later.  
  
"Yes. Or I like to think that I am." She glanced at him, but his expression was unreadable and since he did not reply, she decided to continue: "I want to think that I retraced my steps on this path and that I still have the option to choose. To choose…to be with Legolas…or not."  
  
Being no expert in reading elven expressions, Irulan had no chance of seeing the swift twinkle of hope traveling through his eyes. His fingers gently squeezed hers and, taking that as a sign of support, she strengthened her grasp as well. A deep silence set in between them as the darkness descended slowly on Madrid. "He will come after you," Baeron said finally, his voice low but very audible in the room.  
  
"Can he find me?"  
  
"In a heartbeat."  
  
She swallowed softly. "I don't want to put you in a position of...I mean..."  
  
"I will not lie to Lord Legolas," he said with determination. "Or to anyone else, for that matter. What should I tell him, Irulan?"  
  
"Tell him that I am an independent woman and that I can do whatever the hell I want, damn it!" she groaned, throwing up her hand.  
  
Baeron tried hard not to grin. "Irulan," he said with mock alarm, "Please don't be ridiculous. The statement 'independent woman' is an oxymoron! There can be no such thing!"  
  
She gave him a sheepish look as his teeth glittered in the dim light. "Very funny, Baeron."  
  
"I must urge you to stop this madness," he mused, grinning even broader, "and return into the arms of your man this very minute!"  
  
"Oh stop it!" she grunted, massaging her face.  
  
"Why…he is handsome. Rich. Well-mannered. He will never grow bald, that's for sure. Or gain a belly." Irulan rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched and he saw it. "Listen to me, my dear friend…" with that, he leaned forward, her hand still in his steely grasp, his eyes reflecting mock seriousness, "…to kindle the passion with such escapades is very wise. But…I think it is time that I guide you back to your lord and master. Before you get lost in this big, bad world."  
  
"Enough already, Baeron!" she yelped despite herself, not knowing if she should smack him on the head or release the laughter building up in her. "I need a friend right now! Not a mother, thank you very much!"  
  
The sneer on his visage became only wider at that. "Really?" he drawled, sighing with regret. "Pity. Everybody knows that I can be such a good mother."  
  
Irulan's mouth twisted and she pursed her lips. She wanted to be angry, damn it! But it was futile - he lifted her spirits as easily as grasping her hand and pulling her up from a chair. She bit her lip to keep in the laughter as the elf gave her a long, amused look, then broke out into gentle chuckles, shaking his head. "You have a friend in me, Irulan," he said as his expression gained a slightly serious hue to it. "And...whatever else you seek," was the almost inaudible addition before he continued with a stronger voice. "You need time. I will buy you that time." He leaned forward, finding her hand again and entwining his fingers with hers. "From now on you are my responsibility...and under my protection."  
  
She shifted a little on her chair at his unexpected intensity. "Well...thank you. But you make it sound so...serious," she chuckled nervously.   
  
He grinned again, but this time the amusement did not reach his eyes. "Avoiding Lord Legolas is very serious business," was his late reply. Irulan pursed her lips, feeling even more uncomfortable and not certain if he was joking or not.  
  
Just when she was about to ask him how serious this sort of thing could be, his cell phone rang and she jumped in her seat as her hand flew out to her heart. She had not turned hers on after departing the plane and to hear the sound of a phone was very unexpected. They stared at each other for several moments and neither dared to blink. "It's him," she exhaled with fear.  
  
"Yes," he said blankly, almost leisurely. And yet, he did not make a move to answer it, remaining focused on her instead.  
  
"You have my answer," she said with more determination.  
  
Only then did he nod, gave her an assuring smile, and took the phone, checking the number. "Yes?"  
  
"Baeron," came the Prince's voice that spoke of suppressed alarm. "It's me. Has Irulan called you?"  
  
"She has. She is in Madrid..."  
  
Legolas cut in smoothly "I know that. I traced her credit card."  
  
"...as am I," finished Baeron with caution.  
  
He watched her tilt back in her armchair, gliding into the shadows in the darkened room, though of course Baeron could still see her easily enough. Her fingers dug unconsciously into the fabric and a sharp tenseness was emanating from her. There was complete silence for a moment. And when Legolas spoke again, his tone had changed from worried to dangerous: "Where is she, Baeron?"  
  
"She is with me," he sighed after a short silence.   
  
"I understand that," growled Legolas the threat becoming more evident, "I asked WHERE in Madrid she is."  
  
"And I said she is with ME, my Lord," responded the other elf then, very calmly shifting the emphasis.  
  
It caused an incredible silence on behalf of Legolas, and Baeron listened with deep regret as the other elf's world crumbled wordlessly. He loved Legolas more than anything. But...Irulan had made her choice. She was under his protection now. He would defend her to the very end.  
  
Legolas and Haldir stared at each other, the shock on their faces so evident that Anne jumped to her feet and unconsciously began to bite her nails. Both men instantly knew that it was true - for no elf would lie. Baeron would probably die sooner than lie to Legolas anyway. "Baeron...I am warning you. Don't you dare touch her!" Legolas hissed finally. His whole body was being torn into little pieces and he literally had to lean onto the counter to keep from trembling.  
  
"Believe me, I tried to persuade her otherwise. But she chose my company."  
  
Haldir grasped his shoulder in alarm but Legolas did not feel it. A very long moment passed as both elves tried to keep their calmness and their balance while Irulan, Haldir and Anne watched both elves anxiously. "Even you are not foolish enough to attempt such a thing," the Prince said finally, shifting to stand a little more erect and his voice gaining a forced determination. "Spare her the torture before it gets out of control."  
  
Baeron sighed with the reaction of someone who was expecting this. "She made a choice and I will respect that."  
  
"She is upset! And rightly so! But her feelings will change once her mind has cooled down, you know this."  
  
"I know that she is confused and disappointed. But it takes nothing from her wisdom. I will not treat her like some child."  
  
Legolas banged his free fist on the counter so hard, it actually broke in. Anne gazed at the hole on the wooden surface with horror, but neither Haldir, nor the Prince gave any indication of even noticing the act. "TELL ME WHERE YOU ARE!"  
  
"I'm afraid I can not do that, my Lord," was his calm reply. "I'm not planning to stay here long anyway. We will leave once she is rested - and she looks very much in need of it."  
  
The other elf swallowed at that. "I want to speak to her," he whispered finally.  
  
Baeron held the device to Irulan and she shook her head slowly, looking away. He bit his lower lip and hesitated momentarily. "She will call you later, Legolas," was his final and kind reply - it was far better than saying that she refused to speak to him.  
  
If given the chance, Legolas would begin to cry right there and then. Out of sheer desperation. Thankfully elven control prevented outbursts of that nature. "Is she well?" he said instead, swallowing hard.  
  
"She will be better tomorrow."  
  
He pursed his lips at the evasive answer. So she was not well! Damn his own stupid, stupid ways! Damn his weakness that had brought them to this point! "Baeron, stop this madness before it begins. She is mine and you know that."  
  
He hesitated for a moment. "I think she disagrees, Legolas." Baeron heard the other elf grinding his teeth and waited before he added, "She came to me, seeking my help. I will not turn her away. Not even for you, my lord. Do as you must. I will do the same."  
  
There was a long pause. So long as only to be considered natural for the elves and most unnatural for both Anne and Irulan, who swallowed and squirmed with impatience. The tenseness seemed to rise further and further and only after several moments reached a standstill. Baeron had made his decision already. When the Prince reached his own, a cold and brisk chill replaced the friction. Legolas chose to break the silence and his voice was blank and cold again.  
  
"I have Shared with her yesterday. She is fragile and weak."  
  
Baeron blinked and glanced at Irulan for a moment. "I see. I will take care of her."  
  
Legolas exhaled and dug his fingers into the phone, closing his eyes. He did not know what to feel - should he feel relieved of that fact or frustrated because of it? "I will come for her," was his final and rather cold statement.  
  
"I know," Baeron said with almost a tired tone. "Until then, Legolas. Goodbye." He turned off the phone, placing it on his temple and giving Irulan a long look. She stared back with much unease. "You must be hungry," he said a while later. "Let us eat."  
  
The room was very dark now and Irulan could only see his stance, not his expression. "I am not," she murmured, entwining her fingers nervously.  
  
His hand cupped her chin, forcing her face up to him. His features were invisible to him in this poor light, but she thought she spotted a gentle and caring smile crawl up his lips. "*I* feel hungry," he said softly. "Will you come for my sake, then?"  
  
What an adorable, gentle and mature elf this was! Irulan smiled as well, nodding to herself as her eyes strained to see him better. "Of course," was her hoarse whisper of a reply. His hand found hers before he pulled her up once more. It felt almost as if he had pulled her up from the whole dread and the darkness of her current mood. 'Elves!' she thought distantly as she strode out of the room in silence, his pull guiding her on, 'So ethereal their touch on us, and yet so prominent the mark.'  
  
***  
  
Baeron took her to a nice, cozy place. Nothing fancy like some of the places Legolas had taken her. It was the combination of inn-restaurant-bar. Dim, warm and alluring. He was greeted with enthusiasm, but not with the formal admiration that Legolas usually received. The reaction to him was far more humane - laughter, friendly claps on the shoulder or even embraces. He replied in the same fashion, smiling and laughing all the time and receiving sincere joy in return. They were guided to a secluded booth that held a round bench with pillows that encircled the small round table.  
  
The elf ordered in Spanish and Irulan just gulped down the first thing that arrived - which happened to be tequila on the house. He gently removed the glass from her hand and told the waiter that they wished no further drinks for the night.  
  
"I think we should not drink for a while," he said in English then, turning to her. She merely nodded, pursing her lips, and stared down to her plate. She felt Baeron taking her hand and looked up to meet his beautiful hazel gaze. "It will pass, Irulan. Everything passes. Just let it go."  
  
She nodded again, feeling broken, confused and bitter. Not to mention, about to cry. AGAIN! He cupped his chin, placing his elbow on the table as his other hand kept caressing her fingers. "Will you come with me?" was the gentle question, many moments later. "To the tundras of China? And the plains of Kenya? And the frozen lakes of Finland?"  
  
Irulan smiled in return. Though she would love to travel with Baeron some day, this day she was not really ready to make gleeful future plans while her unsolved problems seemed to become more complicated by the hour. "I hope so. Some day," was her quiet reply. Baeron nodded and smiled with deft encouragement. Again discomfort along with relief washed over her when he pulled her hand up for a kiss. Both were aware that it only reminded her of Legolas, but both were eager to wipe that memory away, so neither said a word. "Where is your home?" was her question, a moment later.  
  
"This whole world is my home."  
  
Irulan cocked her head and gave him a long look. Elves were very settled creatures. Even though they traveled a lot and the circumstances forced them to switch homes every decade or so, they still stubbornly clung to their settlements and tried to make it as comfortable as possibly. No elf, for instance, would enjoy living in hotel rooms all his life. They were attached creatures in nature and preferred to buy houses they could decorate to their own taste and liking and thereby give a homey air. "No...I mean...you have no estates?"  
  
He sighed and massaged his neck. "I have several. But…I don't stay too long in them. I mostly use them like depots...attics to store the items I have come to treasure and like."  
  
"So you just...you always travel?"  
  
Baeron sighed and leaned in on the table once more. "I am a Scout. My work demands me to travel often. But those are short term trips. Even after they are completed...I...remain on the road. Yes, I always travel." He smiled slowly at her surprise. "They call it 'wanderlust'. I have caught the disease many millennia ago. Sure, there I places I like and remain for a while. And that 'while' might be long in human standards...but...eventually the wanderlust boils my blood. And I leave."  
  
She nodded, intrigued and curious by his uniqueness. The more she came to know Baeron, the more she admired him and felt closer to him. 'Maybe because he is so much more…human,' she thought as her eyes held his. Indeed - Baeron had all the incredible attributes of an elf, but none of their common overwhelming and awe-inspiring aura. He was so easy to approach and so easy to grow used to! She sighed, still unconsciously inspecting his handsome features while he let her do so in silence. 'This is a dangerous man,' she thought with sly amusement. 'For it is impossible to hate him.'  
  
Their food arrived then, but neither made an attempt to eat. There was a comforting music in the background and she felt herself relaxing a little. The nerves that had been too worked up and tense for hours now, refused to keep up with that marathon and slowly began to loosen up. Baeron observed this and smiled deftly. "Are you ready now?"  
  
She blinked. "For what?" was her amused question.  
  
He sighed and pursed his lips. "I told Lord Legolas that you would call him back."  
  
Her eyes widened with disbelief and her face fell immediately. Baeron remained unreadable. "Yes but…NOW?!"  
  
"Why not?" was his lofty question.  
  
"I don't want to!" she said with childish fear.  
  
Baeron sighed again and took her hand. "He is concerned for you. Don't you owe him this much, Irulan?"  
  
Irulan huffed and looked away, feeling herself backed into a corner. "I don't owe him anything!" she flung with desperation. The truth was, there was a slight shame ringing in her with the idea of confronting Legolas. He had lied to her. He had manipulated and steered her. And on top of it all, he had tried to imprison her! Nevertheless, the intimacy between them refused these as excuses. Her bond with Baeron was strong. But it was nothing compared to her bond with Legolas. Even this moment the ties that bound her to him were pulling mercilessly, hurting her very heart. And she knew that if she was capable of perceiving this much, the elf must be in torturous pain, for he was far more sensitive in nature. It was like a distant song, refusing to die out. A call…a maddening longing. She would not turn and face it, but that took nothing from its strength, as it bit her, pinched her, shoved her again and again, reminding her of its presence. Reminding her of a night of frightening pain and utmost pleasure. Who was a mere mortal woman like Irulan, in the face of such a mighty thing?  
  
"Call him," Baeron interrupted with a gentle tone. Irulan pursed her lips and shook her head, her eyes fixed on the glass of water in her grip. Elves! Their morals and principles would always remain strange to her. The closest she could define them would be Japanese samurai. The kind that would offer you tea before a deadly duel and take care of your family if you happened to be the one to die that day. Against their rather hostile relationship at the moment, neither Baeron, nor Legolas seemed to take that as a reason to be disrespectful and cruel to each other. "Very well," he sighed, "Then I should call him and tell him that he should not wait." Though she tried to prevent it, her head snapped up at that and the hazel eyes stared back at her with a matter-of-fact blankness.  
  
He fished out his phone with disinterest and Irulan swallowed, his eyes glued to him. Baeron leisurely dialed a number and placed the item to his ear, his gaze heavy on her. "This is Adam Greymane. Is Lord Greenleaf present?" Irulan squirmed in her seat, but remained still. A moment passed. Then another as she bit her lower lip and waited. "Yes I am waiting," he said and did not divert his eyes from her. "It will break his heart, no doubt," he said in a lazy tone to her, then, "But…if a few words are too much to utter for you…well then I guess his heart must break."  
  
Irulan gave him a very nasty glare as her heart was beating madly and as pathetic as it was, she wished that Legolas had left the castle and was not available. "It is me, Legolas," he said a moment later and shattered her hope in the matter. She groaned despite herself and locked eyes with him once more. Baeron obviously had no sense of discomfort, for he remained silently staring at her, a lofty and questioning expression on his face. Irulan was no competition for elves. Never would be. At least she was smart enough to see this. She pursed her lips in anger and held out her hand, her eyes fixed on her water glass once more.  
  
She did not see him smiling with victory. "Irulan wishes to speak with you," was all he said before he gave her the phone and Irulan hesitated for a moment before she tentatively reached out and took it from him. Baeron smiled with assurance, then respectfully got up and left the table, walking towards the bar. She watched him shaking hands with an enthusiastic barman and sitting on a stool to engage in a warm conversation. A moment later she glanced back at the phone in her hand that had begun to tremble a little and took a deep breath before she found the courage to place it on her ear.  
  
She said nothing but Legolas must have heard it brushing against her cheek and did not wait for her to speak up. "It has been too long," he said with a breath of relief. "I missed you dearly. Speak to me."  
  
She waited again, then took a shaky breath. "I...am sorry to leave that way, Legolas. You gave me no other option." To her utter demise she sounded weak and sad to her own ears and that made her lose a great chunk of confidence.  
  
"I understand," came his soothing reply. Irulan relaxed a little and only then realized that in part, she had been expecting the angry Legolas that she had confronted in the Paris hotel room to pick up the phone. "Do not dwell on it. I was worried for your safety and I know now that you are well." Irulan pursed her lips and swallowed hard, getting ready for the nasty part of the conversation. It was very hard when he was being this overwhelmingly nice. And when her heart screamed for her to tell him to come and pick her up. Her eyes glided to Baeron who was sitting at the bar, still speaking to the man. "Return to me," Legolas whispered then and it was filled with so much emotion, that Irulan flinched, feeling him almost beside her. "I cannot bear this. You MUST return!"  
  
"Legolas," she managed to choke out, "I cannot."  
  
"Then I will come to you," was the reply, somewhat more determined.  
  
"You mustn't," she whispered, closing her eyes and massaging her face. "Please...let it go. I have called to ask you one thing alone - let me go, Legolas."  
  
Legolas took a sharp breath, her words embedding themselves into his heart like poisoned arrows. "Tell me that you feel nothing for me, and I shall do so," he whispered, almost in agony.  
  
That was easy! She could just say the words, there was nothing to that! The funny part was -or maybe not so funny part- they would not come out! She opened her mouth several times, then closed it with both surprise and irritation. He waited patiently while she struggled and wrestled and boxed with herself, then finally gave up on it. "That would be a lie. And we have lied enough to each other," she finished, her annoyance open in her voice.  
  
"I have been weak," he continued then, slowly allowing himself to sink down on the armchair from his tense pose. "But is your punishment fair, Irulan? Will you end all for this foolish action of mine?"  
  
"I am not punishing you!" she groaned in reply, overly annoyed by the way things were going. Why was it so hard to achieve something with these stupid elves?! "This is not about you. This is about me. I...need to think. I need time. And you never granted me any!" Legolas said nothing and finally having broken the dam, she continued: "I am so…upside down! Everything has happened so fast. I need to be alone."  
  
"But you are not alone," he growled a moment later and her eyes flew open at the terrible, dark, lethal tone.  
  
"Look," she sighed with impatience, "*I* came to Baeron. Because he was the only one who has not betrayed me..."  
  
"I have not betrayed you!" he cut in, both terrified and somewhat angry. She opened her mouth to object, but he did not give her the chance. "Irulan," he growled and pinched the bridge of his nose, giving himself a moment, "I am no God. I am no angel. I am only a man and never have I claimed perfection. No matter how right or 'civilized' it may seem for you, I will NOT sit back and allow Baeron to take you. Never!" He took a deep breath, forcing his emotions to still. "Return to me and for your sake, I promise not to harm him."  
  
She remained agape and utterly confused. Baeron TAKING her?! Legolas HARMING him?! The words echoed in her head, but found no meaning. They were simply too absurd to fit into the current context. Sure, Legolas was a bit of a jealous elf. He had shown that often enough in the past. But certainly he did not mean what he was actually saying. Right?!  
  
As her silence prevailed, he decided to continue once more, and his voice broke her bafflement: "It was never my intention to hurt you, my love," he sighed. "But if it will make you better...hurt me in return, Irulan. I don't know what else to say to you. I regret my deeds dearly. I am ready to do anything for forgiveness. Tell me what else you ask of me."  
  
"I ask for time and distance, Legolas," she managed to say.  
  
"You shall have it all," he said, almost gently. "Return to me and you can have it all. If you wish, we can go back to New York. But..." -and the tone that followed was woven with danger and threat- "...but do NOT ask me to tolerate your escapade to Baeron! I cannot, Irulan," A moment later he added in a low voice, "I will not.".  
  
"You stupid elves!" she seethed, despite herself. "I wish I had never mingled with your kind! You are all stubborn fools!"  
  
Legolas sighed, trying to gather his logic back. It was hard to argue with mortals when they were so childish. Hard to make them see what one could only see in millennia. Irulan was like a little child insisting to walk across the crowded highway. And it was not her fault - she did not know the danger and neither did she understand that her capabilities of avoiding it were simply not sufficient. "I don't expect you to understand," he said then with a low voice. "You do not see the world with our eyes. You must trust me, Irulan. Trust that I only want what is good and right for you. For us to be together is RIGHT. For me, as well as for you. You may not believe it to be so now, and there is no proof I can offer in its favor. But if you trust me, you will give it a chance and see so for yourself."  
  
"Trust is a tender thing," Irulan said coldly.   
  
Legolas had nothing to say in return and shut his mouth. Irulan took a deep breath. Her eyes swayed to Baeron once more, who was sitting at the bar, playing with his drinking glass, his eyes fixed to it. Maybe a love like the one between herself and Legolas was too strong. Too destructive. The price was too high. "I will go with Baeron," she said finally. She had no way of knowing what that meant, of course. For she had no idea of the dreadful past that hung between these men. Therefore, it was spoken with calm certainty on her behalf. "I can not explain it. It is not a punishment, please don't think of it that way."  
  
Legolas was silent for a long moment. "Irulan," he said and he sounded like a different man altogether. "If you will put a blade through my heart, you will do it to my face." She swallowed softly at his tone that had gone once from soft and gentle to determined and unrelenting. "I think I deserve that much."  
  
"Legolas, please…," she tried against all odds.  
  
"No, my love," he cut her off. "I will come for you and I will find you. Then you can finish this once and for all and we can both rest." Irulan remained speechless. Was he actually serious? What was he hinting at? Surely he was not expecting her to actually...kill him or anything? This was all some elvish, metaphorical speech. Right? RIGHT?!  
  
"Don't come!" she whispered in alarm. "Don't come! Something terrible will happen if you come!" Her eyes locked with those of Baeron and the elf held it. A strange, prophetic feeling came over her and she did not like it a bit.  
  
"If that is what must happen, then let it happen," was his quiet answer.  
  
Baeron slid off his stool and began to walk towards the table. "Legolas," she began once more, her heart beating a frantic rhythm, "I acted cowardly. And never before have I run from my mistakes. But...I will fix it. I need time and...and eventually we can...I mean I'll come back and we'll talk."  
  
"I would have agreed to that if you had chosen to be alone. But you chose Baeron. I will not sit aside and watch you walk that path. I will not wait for the inevitable - for you to end up as his lover."  
  
"Nothing is happening between us!" she yelped with disbelief, shocked at such a suggestion.  
  
"Yet," Legolas growled. If Irulan was smart, he was a genius and he knew both elven and human ways too well. "He will court you. And he will take you, Irulan. And I can not blame him for doing so. But I can prevent him and prevent him I will."  
  
Irulan swallowed as something dark and very unwelcome cackled with sly laughter and stirred awake in her. 'Oh such innocence!' it taunted as she remained completely still, fervently hoping for it to wither and die. 'As if you have never known of his interest in you, dear Irulan! Didn't he give you the napkin with the phone numbers and expressed his liking on the very first day you met?' She swallowed again, but it didn't even slow down the greasy voice. 'And have you not called him at those numbers?' It did not speak for a moment, then continued slyly, 'Deny as you will, my dear. But that MEANS something. Oh yes…a month or a year might seem a long time to you. But it's nothing to an elf. Baeron will wait patiently for you, dear Irulan. He will wait…and wait…and wait. And just when you think he will keep on waiting, one day he will begin to court you. And we both know very well how good you are in resisting that elven courting!'  
  
"Please don't come," she whispered, now more afraid than ever.  
  
"You chose your way and took your step," he said, his voice blank determination now. "It is my turn now. I will come for you, if I have to burn a scar through this world to do so. If it will be the last thing I do, I will still come for you." Irulan gulped audibly as Baeron arrived at the table and sank into his seat, his eyes glued to hers. She hastily turned off the phone as if that would turn of the alarm in her head as well.  
  
His hands grasped her trembling ones and stilled them. Irulan looked up to his comforting gaze and he remained locked to her. "I am afraid," she whispered.  
  
"No fears," he said gently, gliding his palm down her cheek and cupping her neck. "Every storm comes and passes." She did not see it coming but a moment later his lips were on hers and he was kissing her. Irulan was too shocked to grasp that it was even happening for the first few seconds and once she came to understand it, she realized many things at once - for one thing, she felt afraid. No elf should do such a bold thing without consent and she was pretty sure that she had not given consent for a kiss. And yet, here he was, his hand preventing her from breaking off, his tongue gliding over her lips. Then there was a great and sudden guilt that landed like a slap on her face. If Irulan had any sense at all, she would realize that her heart had a mind of its own and had decided that she belonged to Legolas and Legolas alone. That her sentiments of guilt and shame were due to the fact that she wanted Legolas and Legolas only and that any other man would have woken the same brutal reaction in her. But...there was the third factor - which was pleasure. It would be wrong to blame Irulan for feeling it, because any woman would have felt it at the kiss of an elf. There was simply no salvation from something like that - it was a divine gift and it evoked a pleasure that was as natural as the heat of fire or the liquidity of water.  
  
Just when the thought of returning the kiss slid into her brain like a sly serpent, her hands flew up to his chest and she hastily pushed herself away, gasping for breath. His hand on her neck prevented her from further retrieval as his thumb caressed her cheek with lazy circles. After sharply inhaling a few times, she found the courage to look up and their gazes collided. Strange as it might seem, it was like the collision of two different worlds. Male meeting female. Elf meeting human. Strong meeting fragile. Raw meeting intricate.  
  
Again she tried to pry herself off, but his hold was steel and she stilled her actions, swallowing softly. "W-what are you..." she began with a delirious whisper, but his calm voice cut her off: "You taste exquisite." She stared at him agape, completely caught off-guard by his boldness. And of her own excitement in the face of it! He exhaled softly and his hand on her waist pulled her closer with a single, easy motion. Irulan gasped again and tried to prevent gliding closer by placing her palm on his chest and pushing away. "You taste of the past," he whispered on, very unaffected by her action. He kissed her again, this time shorter and more tender. Her protests were lost in his mouth and before she could continue, he drew back once more, meeting her eyes. "Such longing it invokes me!"  
  
"Baeron st-…"  
  
He kissed her again, with a mixture of passion and gentleness. "I can give you so much...so much, Irulan!" he sighed. "All you have to do is ask."  
  
An incredible desire washed over her. His desire. Of sharing the world with her. Of giving his soul and love to her. A desperate need to be with her - to love again. To hope again. An accumulated and potent potential pulsed out of Baeron and it was as intense as anything could be. Like an unborn child, that had found no opportunity to leave, it came with the agony, the tormenting need to be freed.  
  
"Please...," she whispered, closing her eyes and stubbornly trying to push herself away. "Please...I can't breathe!"  
  
With the same suddenness they had come, the feelings disappeared as his elven shield covered them like a cloak. She felt him embracing her and burying his face into her neck. A long moment passed and it was his regret that washed up to the shore of her mind this time. Of his genuine care for her. And his own loneliness and helplessness. His struggle to remain strong when he had lost the reason to be so. 'I will go mad at this pace!' she thought, embracing him back, feeling like crying and laughing at the same time. "Forgive me," he mumbled, embracing her stronger yet and almost knocking the breath out of her with his unconscious strength. "I am lost to myself."  
  
She gently stroked his back and ran her fingers through his hair. No doubt that they must look very strange at this moment - probably believed to be drunk. "It's all right. Every storm comes and passes," she repeated his own words to her with a whisper.  
  
"Let me hold on to you, until it does," he said, almost in pleading. "I fear that it will rip off my roots for good."  
  
Irulan froze momentarily at that. Never before had she heard of an elf that showed his weakness. And only when she saw it, did she understand how hard it must be for them to be the ever wise, strong, mature, just, objective ones. Legolas was right - they were no angels. And not perfect. And yet...they were forced to be so or at least to pretend, year in and year out. Millennia over millennia. They were creatures carrying the ugliness of humanity and forced to do it gracefully. "I will not let that happen," she whispered finally and caressed his back again.  
  
'What have I gotten myself into?' she thought, suppressing the need to shake her head. 'Out of the frying pan and into the fire, Irulan! With your usual fluid cool jump!'  
  
He pulled back then, cupping her face between his hands. "Lovely, lovely Irulan," he whispered, his hazel eyes holding her motionless. A gentler and less forceful kiss landed on her lips. It was done before she could pull back and he released her then, placing his hands loosely on her waist and resting his forehead on hers. "The first moment I saw you...." he began with a low voice, many minutes later. Her eyes fluttered open and found his unblinking stare and she waited while his hand reached out to caress her cheek. "...I have wanted you," he added with a heavy voice, his hazel eyes shining in light of the lanterns and candles.  
  
She remained speechless by his sudden change and his intensity. More so by the attraction she felt for him. The attraction one felt to an elf. For they were power clad in flesh and blood...pulsing and pulling...like a black hole in space. Nothing escaped the pull of their gravity.  
  
He waited for a moment, then continued, "I will not lie to you, in that you can trust me." His eyes flared up under the dim light when he tilted his head to speak into her ear, his lips caressing the rim of it as he whispered. "I want you still. Far more than before."  
  
She swallowed and tilted back a little to put some distance between them as a flush crept up her cheeks. "But I will not take you at any price. Especially at the price of your own unhappiness." Baeron gave her a long look before he continued, "I will be a friend to you this day. For you have asked it of me and it is a great honor. In return, I ask for one thing alone..." Irulan, slightly panting with alarm and excitement, did not trust herself to speak, and therefore merely nodded for him to continue. "…That somewhere in the farthest corner of your heart...somewhere in you that is free and wild and bold...you will grant me a chance to show myself to you."  
  
She blinked, frozen with her hands on his chest, rigid and determined to keep him away, her brown eyes fixed on his dark, misty hazel ones. "What exactly does that mean?" was the quiet question she managed to choke out a long moment later.  
  
"Do not throw me away with ease and haste," he said in a pleading whisper. "Do not turn your face from me without a glance. Do not pass by me without a single utterance. That's all I ask, Irulan." She eyed him, still not certain of his meaning and he inhaled, looking down at their entwined hands for a moment.  
  
"But...you know that..."  
  
"I know. And once again...I will not feel bitter if you choose him over me."  
  
She did not know what to say so she said nothing. For the first time since she had made the call and flown all the way from England to Madrid, she felt the slightest unease at her choice. Had it been wise to come to a man whom she had known to have feelings for her? He was an elf, yes...but he was a man nevertheless.  
  
"Baeron," she began tentatively, "this is…not helping the situation. At ALL."  
  
His fingers found her cheek once more and he caressed it very gently, his eyes locked to that action. "You said that you are at a crossroads, no?" Irulan swallowed softly, not daring to move. "That your choice lies yet ahead of you?" She swallowed and looked away, and found her chin, locking eyes with her once more. "It is not a chance I am asking for," he continued, "that would be too bold. But maybe the ghost of a chance." A moment passed between them as he found her hand and brought it up for a kiss. "Grant me your warmth, Irulan." He smiled the saddest smile she had ever seen on any face, and she felt stricken by it. "You say you need my support. I am willing to give my LIFE for the shadow of your warmth."  
  
"But...what about..."  
  
"Legolas will find us eventually, yes."  
  
"What happens when he does?" she whispered in fear.  
  
Baeron did not answer for a long moment. "Then...then we will do foolish things. And you must forgive us for it."  
  
She stared back in anxiety and disbelief as the elf held her gaze evenly. "What kind of...I mean...I can not allow that, Baeron! Not for me! Then I will have neither of you as anything - no friends, no nothing!"  
  
Baeron grinned, very unaffected by her furious look. He kissed her forehead, in the most tender and friendly fashion, then glided back to give her space. With a rather solemn expression on his face, he spread her napkin on her lap and gently smoothed it. "It does not matter. WE want you. We will do what we must," he said matter-of-factly.  
  
Her mouth fell open to that and Irulan remained simply incapable of words as he filled her glass of water and pushed the salad and appetizer plates towards her. Irulan, though, didn't move and after managing to close her mouth simply sat staring at him. Baeron stared back, an expression of perfect innocence on his face. "I know what you are thinking," he said finally, his lips gaining a sly grin.  
  
"Good," she seethed. "Because the words I would pick to express it would shame me!"  
  
He grinned wider and began to cut his meal. "Your mistake, Irulan," he said and bit on a potato, tasting it while she looked at him with narrowed eyes, "is to assume that you, me or Legolas have any choice in this matter."  
  
"Of course we do!"  
  
Baeron ignored her completely and dived his fork into his black beans. "No, we don't. We have passed that junction, that crossroads. Now we will walk the road we have chosen - no matter what awaits us there." He wiped his mouth with the napkin and released his fork, leaning onto the table to give her a better look. "Can you say that YOU yourself made the choice of falling in love with Legolas?" Irulan, momentarily baffled and disturbed by that question, tore her gaze and inspected her plate instead. "Can you say that you choose now to like or dislike me?" Another moment passed as she felt defeat at those questions. "From the very first moment I saw you," he said slowly and his tone forced her to lock eyes with him once more, "I have desired you. Under those circumstances I would not have acted upon it - perhaps that much of it was MY choice. But now the circumstances have changed. And my road is laid."  
  
"What if I go back on mine?" she said, trying to sound determined and cold.  
  
Baeron grinned in his own peculiar way and shrugged. "You can certainly try. I will not go back on mine. Neither will Lord Legolas on his."  
  
"Are you saying that I HAVE to belong to either one of you?!" she hissed with disbelief.  
  
Baeron sighed, squinting his eyes and looking around the restaurant. Again she did not expect it, but he changed from playful and lofty to serious instantly. "All I am saying is," he said, caressing the back of her hand that lay on the table between them as his eyes remained fixed on hers, "that you have touched my heart. It is impossible to forget such a thing and pretend it never happened."  
  
***  
  
Legolas inhaled and let the strange smell take over his senses. The scent of salt. Of sand. Of open, wide, blue water as far as the eye could see. He had grown out of the shock that had taken hold of his mind when he first saw the ocean. The intimidation he felt at its vastness was gone. Now only an alluring pull remained.  
  
He opened his eyes and stared out to the water that stood as blue as his eyes. So much water! And beyond it…Valinor.  
  
A gull cried right at that moment and his heart jumped once more. He disliked that sound for it stirred a strange, primitive urge in him to wade into the waters and keep walking. From this day on he would come to dislike it even more, for it would forever be etched into his mind as the sound of parting.  
  
The swish of footsteps behind him pulled him out of that dark lullaby and he inhaled again, allowing the scent of the ocean gently sizzle his lungs before he spoke. "A good day it is, Mithrandir."  
  
"A fine day for parting, my friend," came the voice. So human in texture! Though its bearer was far from human.  
  
"No day is fine for parting," he said before he could stop himself. A moment later the Wizard's hand landed on his shoulder, gently squeezing it. "You are wrong, my friend." The elf turned to see the expression of gentleness on his face. A power emanated from the old man that was perhaps not perceivable for any other, but had always been very evident for Legolas. "When you live as long as I have," Gandalf mused on, squinting his eyes and gazing into the blue horizon, "you will see that some days are perfect for parting. Those are the days you have people to part from, around you. The worst of days is when you go…and no one is there to say farewell." Such would be the departure of Arwen, but neither elf, nor Wizard knew it yet. "I feel distinguished, for many have come this day," Gandalf added, locking his twinkling eyes with the elf's once more.  
  
Legolas nodded and turned away from the water as the gull cried again and he swallowed softly in reply. "I fear this(new side to me," the Prince whispered, the slightest of terrors in his voice. "What strange creature I am becoming! An immortal, who feels like mortals!"  
  
Gandalf laughed his famous, loud laughter and it fanned out from them, as they walked on the white sand towards the haven in the distance. A wild forest was adorning their right, the gigantic roots of the trees embedded into the pale sand like the legs of spiders. "That, my friend, is an improvement, believe me," the old man sighed a moment later, still chuckling. "Change is good, Legolas. Change is essential." He looked at the elf walking beside him in silence while the other kept his face down. "Everything in the world changes. You must change along, or remain something unnatural and unworldly in the face of it."  
  
Legolas sighed, watching their feet glide over the sand - his gently caressing it, not sinking in, while Gandalf's were washing it aside with every step. "I cannot imagine this world without you. Without the elves. Without Mirkwood," Legolas said.  
  
"You are young, yet," said Gandalf matter-of-factly. For a moment they remained puzzled to that, then both looked at each other, breaking into gentle laughter. No other would make a comment like that to Legolas, who, at that time, was beyond 3000 summers old. "In your darkest day, Legolas," Gandalf said suddenly, halting in mid-step and locking eyes with him once more, "remember that you are loved. That you are missed. That you are never alone and always well-kept in our hearts." Once again, the man's hand found his shoulder as Legolas stared into the blue eyes, swallowing softly. "We will not be there to say it. And the world is a treacherous place - it will urge you to forget this in time. But you mustn't forget!" The grasp on his shoulder gained strength and the elf shifted to stand more upright, his eyes locked to the orbs of the Istari before him. "You must remember that love is stronger than time. Mightier than distance. I ask your promise, dear friend."  
  
A long moment passed and when the gull cried for the third time, he promised on the sandy beach of Rhun, as the majestic White Ship stood beckoning at the dock, a vessel of incredible beauty and size. As Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn, Arwen, Galadriel, Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, Faramir, Eowyn, Eomer, Haldir, Elrond, Celeborn and many others would say farewell to one another forever. As the world was changing that very moment and nothing would ever be the same again.  
  
Gandalf had been right. The world had indeed tried to make him forget that promise many, many times. But Legolas would hold true to his word. In the fiercest battlefield, as death brushed by him, he would remember. When he witnessed the loss of friends, lovers, companions, he would remember. In the face of chaotic revolutions as the streets became a slaughterhouse; during his meetings with emperors, kings or generals who stank of such evil that he had felt nauseous in the face of it; when he watched the brave and the innocent lying down to the guillotine for honor, truth and justice; as he observed the greed of power kill millions in a matter of minutes without the slightest regret…he would remember.  
  
And he remembered now. In this dark hour. In this long night.  
  
He heard Haldir approach the room long before the knock on the door. And even after he granted entrance, Legolas chose not to rise from his armchair to glance over his shoulder. The moonlight was streaming in through the window, washing everything in black and blue.  
  
Haldir said nothing for a long while and waited behind the desk in patient politeness. Only after several moments, did his voice sound in the silence. "I know you do not want me to come along." Legolas only shook his head, still not turning to look around. "Legolas...allow me to speak my mind."  
  
He did not reply and after a short hesitation Haldir glided to stand by the second armchair, facing the window as well. Their eyes met shortly and finally the Prince nodded and the other elf glided to sit on it, his pose slightly facing his friend. "Where does your anger lie?" was the gentle question.  
  
Again, he found no reply right away, other than a deep sigh. "Nowhere. And that is an evil thing." He inhaled again before he continued, "I cannot blame her. Neither can I blame Baeron."  
  
Haldir nodded once, his blue eyes sparkling in the dim setting. "Often I have longed to return the touch of mortals on my heart," he said quietly, shifting to glance out the tall windows, into the dark forest. "But all cracked and fell apart at my hard, clumsy grasp. It was in those times that I despaired and thought 'Perhaps our kinds were not made to mingle'." The other elf gave him a long glance and Haldir turned to reply it in the same fashion. "But I know that it was merely the darkness pressing upon me. And it was vanity that made me say such things - why blame the Valar and how they had created us, when there is only my own clumsiness to blame?"  
  
"You had said that I might regret this test. Once again, you were right, Haldir," was the tired statement.   
  
"No need to lose hope, Legolas," the other countered then. "Will you let this incident end your happiness before it can sprout?"  
  
"Of course not!" was the sharp reply as their blue gazes locked once more. He pursed his lips and turned back to the window once more. "Too long have I waited for her. I cannot let her walk away now."  
  
"That would be foolish, I must admit," was the flat statement. Neither spoke for a moment, then Haldir continued cautiously, "Such things happen in every affair. More so amongst humans. Do not dwell on it more than it deserves."  
  
"Perhaps amongst humans, Haldir," Legolas sighed, "but it should not have happened between us. Of all the pitfalls, mistrust is the most deadly. It was a terrible mistake not to tell her of it sooner. The fear of losing her overshadowed my mind." He brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes.  
  
The Lothlorien elf leaned slightly forward, locking his blue gaze with that of the Prince. "She did not leave with loss of love, Legolas. Only that, you would have no power to change. But…she still loves you. Everything else is minor. Your mistake is trivial and you will unmake it."  
  
They both chose silence once more, leaning back in their armchairs and observing the night view for a while. Legolas felt his spirit lighten a little. It was not the end of the world. It was not the most terrible mistake. Irulan was confused and a little dazed. He could fix that. He could slacken his pace and give her a wider circle to breathe in. The only problem was...Baeron. He was the only danger in this equation and he was why Legolas had to go after her now. Because he knew with certainty that if he allowed her to drift, Baeron would claim her.  
  
From the corner of his eyes he saw Haldir raising his hand to his cheek, grimacing. He turned to the other elf, then, raising his eyebrows at his expression. "I received my first slap today," Haldir said dryly, a sheepish look on his face. "It was not very enjoyable."  
  
Legolas could not help a smile crawling on his lips. "Anne?"  
  
"Indeed," sighed the other elf, looking somewhat lost as to how he should react to something like that. "She was not happy to hear that I knew of such a test all this time. And I must add that she has a strong arm."  
  
"If it will make you feel better," grinned Legolas then, "I received two this day. Irulan, too, has a hefty arm."  
  
They looked at each other, then laughed softly. Their tones were far from bitterness - in fact, it sounded more like they were glad. As if they were boys who had just accomplished and shared something truly extraordinary and maturing. In a way, it was so. For a slap on the face did not happen to an elf every day.  
  
With that laughter, the last remnants of the dread on his spirit lifted and Legolas let go of it. With each moment, the fact that this had been a mere argument and a misunderstanding seemed to gain strength. Irulan was a temperamental and overly confused woman and she had acted without thinking. He would find her and guide her back to where she belonged. And in the meantime, he would kill Baeron while he was at it and thereby do something useful as well. He smiled broadly, his chuckles dying into a deep and content sigh.  
  
It was then that both picked up the faintest of sounds in the distance. Legolas gracefully stood up, then and Haldir followed, turning to face him. The Prince smiled broader, his face speaking of hope and determination as Haldir lay his hand on his shoulder. "One thing is for certain, Legolas," he mused, his lips quirking up playfully, "I do not recall you chasing a woman ever before."  
  
"I assure you, Irulan makes up for all the wasted time, my friend," sighed Legolas, grinning to show his perfect teeth. He moved away then, grasping his jacket as he strode out of the room, through the dark hallways, ever closer to the garden where the chopper would descend soon.  
  
***


	22. Fate Will Stitch Us Together Once More

Baeron took her to another hotel. "Lord Legolas will find that one rather easily," he said when she asked. "Not knowing the situation, I had reserved our room under my name." Irulan merely nodded and tried not to think how strange it was to be actually avoiding Legolas. Legolas, whom she loved so much, that it was downright painful! The longing for him grew further and further and she found it impossible to resist the tears when they arrived at another hotel that seemed far less fancy. 'I hate myself!' she thought, furious and desperate at the same time. 'I hate myself! He betrays me, deceives me, attempts to imprison me, and yet I miss him!' Where was the brave, wise, cool Irulan who snorted and laughed at the weakness of her girlfriends when they could not help to go back again and again to lousy former lovers? Where was that woman now? She was gone for all times, by the looks of it. 

Baeron soothed her and guided her to the room, embracing her shoulders. She remained looking at the bed with unseeing eyes for a long time but when his hand landed on her shoulder, she woke up to the fact of their state and situation. Irulan swallowed softly and turned to face him once more. 

No doubt that this man was immaculate. His short, tousled sandy blonde hair, his handsome face with sharper features than those of Legolas, his deep hazel-green eyes and perfect lips added up to a creature of deep beauty. But of course it was more than physical things that made Baeron who he was. He raised his hand and glided his fingers down her cheek, as he had done in Paris, at the restaurant and both smiled at that gesture before they locked eyes in stillness again. "Don't cry," he said gently, a sad smile on his face. 

Irulan glanced away for a moment, trying to put her thoughts together. "Baeron," she began cautiously, "what...what exactly are we?"

He took a deep breath, narrowing his eyes and looking over her shoulder. "We are nothing yet," was his final reply. "We are a beginning. That is a good thing."

"I can't...be...with you," she said then, afraid to see deep disappointment on his face. It was true. She did not run from Legolas to end up in the arms of another. Especially another elf and this particular elf. She ran to Baeron because their bond had pulled her beyond hesitation. And yet...Irulan did not know where this would end in the long run. Honestly, she did not want to think about the long run just now. 

"Yet," he said softly and her eyes snapped up to lock with his, once more. 

She took a shaky breath and turned to sit on the bed. Baeron followed in silence, sitting next to her and holding her hand. "This will sound so...stupid. Not to mention...overly human...but I am really not-"

"Irulan," he cut in and she stopped, in a way relieved that she would not have to speak and make a fool out of herself. "I am no Man. I need no explanation." He sighed and combed his fingers through her hair. "There are more important things in life than physical intimacy. I only long to be close to you, grant me that."

Irulan gave him a long, sidelong glance as he continued to comb her hair, his other hand gently holding hers. 'Why not Baeron?' she thought suddenly. Why had she not fallen for him? Why wasn't she falling for him even now? Why, against all his attraction, his irresistible ways and his warmth, was she still unable to close the door of her heart that led to Legolas? "Do you think I am a fool?" was her quiet and very serious question. 

The elf smiled and locked eyes with her once more. He brought up her hand to kiss it. "I think I don't give a damn what or who you are," he whispered. 

Irulan sniffed and smiled despite herself. "Was that an evasive answer?"

His laughter chimed in the room for a moment and his perfect teeth glimmered in the dim light. "No, I don't think you are a fool. I think you are something magnificent - you are human."

She grinned, feeling better after having heard his laughter and rolled her eyes in mock frustration. "What on earth is so magnificent about THAT?"

He cocked his head, giving her a long look. "You are confused. Afraid. Indecisive. But tomorrow you will be none. Even this moment you change from being something to being something else, with drastic speed. You will never be the same again." He sighed as she found herself listening with rapt attention. "Everything touches your spirit and your heart. Everything becomes a part of you and makes 'you'. I am awed by that."

A short silence ensued as the lively music from the street glided into the silence of the room. "But...everyone changes. You change, too."

"Not like this, dear Irulan." He sighed and looked briefly towards the window that was the only source of light in the chamber now. "It is a welcome, but very rare thing for my kind." She thought about his meaning for a moment or two, then he continued, his tone tired once more, "We glide through this world, unaffected by it for most of the time. Less and less things leave a mark on our hearts. Fewer and fewer people stir our souls. It is the curse of having seen all and done everything. You can never understand the dulling, numbing effect that has on one." He locked eyes with her once more, smiling a little lighter. "And I hope you never will." He combed her hair again, lifting up the ends to give it a tender kiss. "Unlike many mortals I have met, you have much curiosity and eagerness for life. You are open to the world and fearless in your quest. I admire that. Never change, Irulan," he finished, the irony and contradiction of his wish to his statement a moment ago forcing an amused smile on both faces.

She swallowed softly with the intensity of his gaze, then laughed with a nervous edge to chip off the heavy conversation. "I would hardly say that I'm not afraid, Baeron!"

He grinned then. "A moment or an era of fear does not make you a coward. It is the fact that you are afraid now, but will shed it some other day as if you have never worn that garment that makes you so incredible." She stared back in wonder and he looked at her in admiration. He leaned in and placed a lingering kiss on her cheek and immediately she felt uncomfortable. 

"I find myself always in the same situation," she said, chuckling nervously. "Under the overwhelming spell of elves. And...not ready for it."

Baeron kissed her cheek again, before he pulled back. "No worries. My words were sincere - what we share even at this moment is a gift of terrible beauty for me. I will cherish it. And not ask for more." She looked up at him, relieved. "Yet, of course," he added with a childish grin and Irulan laughed, shaking her head. He was the strangest creature ever! One moment he was all man, the next only a dear friend. And nobody knew what he would be the moment after that.

Baeron jumped to his feet, releasing her hands. "As a constant traveler, some things never leave my side. I have a t-shirt that should fit you well enough. You can change and go to sleep in it. You will feel much better once rested, Irulan." 

She nodded and slowly rose as well. Though her longing for Legolas had not disappeared completely, it had shrank into the background and Irulan was happy for it. "What will you do?" she said cautiously. 

He shrugged and turned to find his backpack in the dark. She saw nothing but heard him drawing the zipper and fumbling through it. "Lord Legolas told me that you are...fragile. I will stay with you this night." He fished out the cotton pants and the cotton T-shirt, offering the shirt to her and keeping the other item to himself. 

Irulan nodded in approval. It was an incredible thing to be with elves. Not to worry about their advances or them being deceitful and tricky. As with any other, she could walk around naked in front of Baeron, and still he would not move without her consent. Well...perhaps with Baeron one needed to be a little more cautious. Since he was so...unique. But even he would keep stoically to elven principles and limits, she knew that. And it was a relief to be able to think of them as safe and trustworthy in that aspect. 

He smiled in return, his delight very obvious on his expression and Irulan left to the bathroom to put the T-shirt on her. Though he was an elf with a lithe build, it was a loose article and hung almost to her knees. She washed her face and brushed her teeth with the brush the hotel offered, then returned to the bedroom. Baeron stood by the window, his upper half naked and the cotton pants on his lower half, the reflection of light playing on his smooth and marble-like skin. Perhaps he was immune to the sight of a half naked woman, but Irulan held no such virtues. She swallowed and hastily looked away, feeling embarrassed for no particular reason. Though she must be like a child in his eyes and he must have seen the female body naked countless times (or so she told herself and let it be known that for Baeron she was very far from a child), she felt very self-conscious and hastily climbed underneath the covers, pulling them up to her chest. 'Think of him like your brother, you fool!' she thought to herself. 

Unfortunately Baeron looked nothing like her brother. He turned to her, a tender smile on his face. He shared the beautiful, muscular, lithe body with the rest of his kin but nevertheless, had differences compared to Legolas. His skin, for instance, was a shade darker - almost olive. Legolas seemed a tad slimmer compared to him and Baeron's shoulders were a little larger. Whereas Legolas had the perfection of a piece of art, Baeron had a more masculine beauty to him. His approach to the bed was perfectly silent and Irulan had to force herself to look up at him. "Move over," he said gently. 

She just stared at him in alarm and unconsciously clutched at the cover harder. Baeron smiled wider, the ways of humans so naive and yet so alluring to him. At her lack of response he proceeded to lift the cover in the most natural fashion and Irulan, who had not thought that he would actually sleep with her in the same BED -not to mention, while looking like this!- out of sheer alarm hastily glided away. In one fluid movement the elf was settled on her former spot and though she tried to move further away at the risk of falling off the bed, he grasped her waist and pulled her to himself with unquestionable strength. 

Irulan gasped and froze completely, unable to move a single muscle as Baeron smoothed the cover over them and finally lay down, his face only inches from her, his hand lying across her waist. She swallowed hard, her heart beating furiously. She felt no physical desire for Baeron - even though the opposite would be very understandable. And she knew that he would not make a move and dare to go against his word. And yet, to lie here half naked with a half naked elf next to her, was a little too much for a woman of her character. 

Baeron was very aware of her discomfort, of course, and in a sly manner, enjoyed it immensely. "Don't tell Legolas," he said softly. His grin was hidden by the dark. 

The idea alone made her dizzy. If Legolas would walk in through the door this moment...well let's just say that the wallpaper would gain a red color. Nothing was happening, true, but still Irulan was more than certain that he would not like the idea of her sleeping half naked with Baeron in the same bed. Oh no...not at all. "T-tell him w-what?" she stammered, feeling the need to say something. 

He grinned again and this time, with her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw it. He moved closer as her muscles literally ached with her stiff state. His arm embraced her further as he placed a tender kiss on her cheek, then lay his face closer to hers. "That I like your warmth," he whispered, his gaze intense, "and your scent," he added with a sigh, his hand climbing up to her shoulder, then into her hair, combing it gently away from her face. 

"I won't!" she said hastily, now feeling dizzier than ever. Perhaps her own blood would accompany Baeron's on the wallpaper if she told such a thing. The idea made her groan with dread and he laughed. She chuckled along, glad that the intensity between them had lifted a little. Anne would never believe that she had been in bed with such a gorgeous creature and neither had made a move for further intimacy! The idea of Anne brought back the earlier happenings of the day and Irulan sighed unconsciously and she hastily stuffed it away. "I have learned that lesson, believe me," she sighed. "Legolas looked nothing like an elf when he found out about David."

"Who is David?" he said, raising himself on his elbow and cupping his chin in his palm. 

She groaned again. "Forget it. No one."

"No, tell me," he insisted, delightfully curious. 

"No one!" she said in exasperation, mimicking his pose and raising herself, too. "I made him up to refuse Legolas." His face, merely inches from her, broke into true surprise. She had told him about the pledge, but skipped the David issue altogether, saying that she had just lied to Legolas and felt forced to correct that shame. The main reason for that had been not a desire to hide it, but just the desire to prevent prolonging the dreadful tale. "He did not take it too well, I must add," was her dry comment. "Thus...the pledge."

Baeron grinned in silence for a few moments. "I see," he said and looked like he was trying hard to suppress a chuckle. Irulan kept looking at him with mock frustration, daring him to laugh out. "You made up a lover to refuse Lord Legolas?!" he said with amazement then. She rolled her eyes and began picking on the pillow below her. "That must have been a first for him," he added and against all intentions, broke into soft laughter. Irulan smacked him on the shoulder and Baeron just laughed harder. 

"It was not funny! He really scared me!" He tried to stop, then gave up on it. "Threw me on the bed and everything!" she insisted, partly annoyed, partly amused at his reaction. Baeron only laughed harder at that and Irulan, feeling frustrated, laughed along, smacking his shoulder and trying to push him away once more. 

Their laughter soon died out and suddenly, out of nowhere, a sizzling atmosphere arrived between them. She shifted with unease, glancing at his face that stood shrouded in the dark due to the fact that the window was behind him and the faint light did not illuminate his features as he stood propped up his elbow, like herself. A long moment passed and her discomfort grew as she felt his gaze heavy on her, but could not fathom his thoughts. 

"What do you see in Lord Legolas?" he said suddenly, his voice gentle and soft. 

She froze with hesitation. "What do you mean?"

He did not answer immediately. Only several moments later he spoke up again. "What does he have, that I do not?"

Her eyes widened with wonder and she chuckled despite herself. Baeron seemed to be intrigued by that, but did not inquire. "You men! Sometimes I think you care nothing for us. You care only about overpowering each other!" Still he did not speak, so she explained: "That was exactly what Legolas asked me about David."

"What was the answer?"

"There is no answer," sighed Irulan finally. "You said it yourself...love is a large palette with many colors." 

Baeron remained silent for a long time. When he spoke again, his voice was low and fragile: "Yes. And I will forever remain in the shadow of his glamour."

She looked up again, baffled by the sadness in his tone. "Why do you say that?" He did not answer. "You are a wonderful man, Baeron. It is foolish to compare yourself with another."

He sighed, laying back, inspecting the ceiling. The past! Such terrible beauty it held! And it was more loyal than any friend – for no matter what, the past never let go. Never ever. "Let us rest, Irulan," he said a long minute later. 

Irulan merely nodded and glided down to lay her head on the pillow, facing him. The elf did the same and though their pose was identical to what it was before, this time their state seemed oddly much less intimate. Again he placed his hand on her waist and again, he kissed her cheek, then lay back, combing her hair, but it held nothing of the sizzling flame that it had, before. She fell asleep, thinking how that was possible, and Baeron remained awake, trying very hard to remember that he was an elf and immune to the calls of desire. 

***

The grass felt incredible underneath her naked soles. Cool, moist and soft. She looked down and for several steps watched her feet crushing it gently. Even the smell was very real – sharp and fresh. 

Crunch...swish...crunch...swish...crunch... Her gaze wandered to her left and she saw the other pair of naked feet engaged in the same action. Her eyes slowly wandered up the perfectly white skin of the ankle, to the edge of a long, black gown and further up to a small waist, then a black veil that was fluttering around a face. 

She should be afraid. But as strange as it was, she felt only incredible peace. HER peace.

"Millennia separate us, King-daughter," she said and Irulan was suddenly struck by her deep, musical voice. Arwen spoke as if she revered each and every word. "But our fate unites us nevertheless."

Irulan watched Arwen's head rise to look ahead and she mimicked the queen, observing the hill just ahead of them. The wind seemed stronger as they walked further towards it, for it stood in the open. She gulped despite herself and a shiver ran down her spine. "Why the sadness?" came the melodious voice, and it almost sounded taunting. "Does my parting hurt you?"

Irulan swallowed to prevent the dryness in her throat. "It seems...unfitting," she managed to say with a hoarse and raw voice.

No sound came from Arwen, but Irulan felt a tinge of amusement emanating from her. "You misread me, heir of mine," drawled the woman as they slowly began their ascent of the hill. A flock of birds swept over them and the air was so clear and brisk that she imagined to smell the musky scent of their feathers. "I am no fragile woman. I am no tender lady. I am no weak maiden." Irulan said nothing and for a short moment. The sensation of the wet grass stems underneath her feet was very overpowering. "I am a warrior!" sounded the deep voice of Arwen and the strength and sudden command in it made her head snap around towards the black veil. Irulan wanted to speak. To say something. Anything. But the presence of such a creature beside her and the reality of her current vision rendered her speechless. She felt diminished and unimportant. Here she was, accompanying a woman like this to her certain death...what could she say at a moment like this? "And it pains me to see that my kin does not follow my footsteps."

A sudden unexplainable shame came over her and Irulan frowned, not in understanding why that was. She felt a blush bloom in her cheeks and cast her gaze down to her feet. Though Arwen walked as smooth as she would walk on a perfectly straight road, Irulan herself felt herself slightly panting as the hill became steeper. "I...I have disappointed you," she whispered with perfect dread when the idea became prominent in her mind. 

"I feel up to no pretense on this last day," sighed Arwen. 

It was all the answer Irulan needed as she felt her face burning, against the cool breeze. "Why?" was the terrified whisper. 

"You do not have the heart," was the cold reply. 

They had passed the half-way of the hill now and still they rose, the soft earth sinking under Irulan's soles while the elf beside her walked on perfectly smooth. A short silence settled between them and she felt her unreasonable but very real shame deepening further and further, pulling her down into a dark lake. "I...I..." She gave up. At this moment, she simply lacked the strength to ask the reason. 

Arwen sighed gently and her head swiveled slightly, taking in the silent forest around them. Her features were invisible to Irulan and that was a little frightening. As was the fact that this was one of those...dangerous...dreams. And the fact that they were here on a rather disturbing event. "I broke every rule there was to break," came her deep voice, the tone of amusement and pleasure enough to stun the other woman, "but you...dear daughter..." with that, her face turned to a shocked Irulan, "...are nothing like me." Another breeze ruffled the black veil, and for an instant and an instant alone, it lifted enough to show a chin of perfect rosy skin and fabulous lips, curled up in a smile. 

"What would you like me to do?" was Irulan's anxious whisper of a question. 

Arwen halted in mid-step and Irulan did as well, once again intimidated by her. She remained looking at her black veil, unable to see the face underneath and feeling uncomfortable because of that. "I would like you to be worthy of your line!" seethed Arwen. Irulan remained fixed on her. Actually she wanted to move away...but felt completely incapable of it at the moment. "I have not defied the world so that my line can bend to it!"

She blinked. Another cool gust hit her, this time from behind and she realized that she had been sweating. Another shiver ran down her spine. Arwen did not move. Therefore, neither did she. "I....I'm sorry," was the only thing she could come up with. She was still not certain what Arwen was talking about, but the fact that she was called some sort of a coward or failure was not exactly very heart-warming. 

Arwen said nothing, then turned and continued her ascent. Irulan hastily joined her once more. They did not speak again until they reached the summit. Once there, Irulan could not help herself looking around. The autumn forest stretched around her in perfect silence. Maybe it was not autumn at all – maybe the entire world was going through a season of autumn and all the gloominess could be attributed to that. Her eyes then fell to the rock in front of her, embedded in the soft earth. The idea that Arwen would die right here suddenly brought all the dread that she should have felt before in one single punch onto her. She swallowed again and turned back to the queen, who was standing two steps away, her black dress like a dark cloud, fluttering around her. 

"All my life," began the queen, her tone peaceful and satisfied, "I have chosen love. No matter what other options. No matter the outcome. No matter the price." Irulan felt another wave of heat hitting her cheeks. But she dared not tear her gaze away. "Even now I am not choosing death...but love, Irulan." A short interval came in, and again she sensed Arwen's amusement. "Death is simply the outcome. I care nothing for that." Irulan pursed her lips, her eyes glued to the black veil, fluttering around the elf's face. "What do YOU choose, heir of my blood?"

Another silence. She had no answer. She was afraid of an answer. She opened her mouth, then closed it. She had nothing to say. She was a failure. A coward. A loser. The great heir of Aragorn! If she could, Irulan would snort. Though it was far from funny at this point. More like....sad. Arwen turned her profile to her then and there was disinterest in her voice when she spoke again: "Leave. You have no place here."

She did not move, desiring to stay, to gain Arwen's forgiveness or liking. To make it up to her. To change. To become whatever she was expected to be. But her anxious stillness was broken by the elf's stern voice. "Leave! I would rather die alone, then in the company of one who has no heart!"

Never in her entire life had Irulan felt this small, unworthy and disgusting. Never had she felt so slashed by a comment. If she could choose this very instant, she would –without any hesitation- choose to fall on her face and die. And hope that her name would be erased from all history forever. "Please," she whispered, instantly amazed that she had managed to do so, "Please...allow me to stay."

"Nay," exhaled the elf, only very slightly turning her head to the direction of the other woman. "you are not worthy."

"Please," Irulan begged once more, swallowing down a very, very treacherous, big lump of tears. 

"I am proud to die this day," was the late response. It did indeed ring of pride and determination. "For I am a daughter, wife, and mother of kings. I have found what matters most in this world and I have defended it like the true warrior I am. Stay if you can say the same for yourself, Irulan."

She just stared at Arwen, agape. An eternity seemed to pass as the elf remained perfectly unmoving, like some statue and Irulan was frozen into immobility. Her long hair flew around her and the wind seemed to have gained a chillier edge. Cold it was. Like the truth. The truth of being none of those things. She had failed her line. She had failed herself. She was nothing. 

Irulan did not know it, but a tear rolled down her face and it seemed like it was the hardest task as she slowly took a step back. Still the queen did not move and remained gazing at her. No sentiment emanated from her still form - other than a frosty distance. She, too, was cold. Irulan took another step back, feeling unworthy of her presence. Arwen was right. She was a coward. All her life she had run. From commitment. From responsibility. From dedication. From risk. And now...now she was running again. From love. It was a betrayal like no other, for her line had sprouted from such a love. Another step followed and finally the distance between them was large enough for Irulan to turn her back to the other woman. The wind blew into her wet face and she felt like a layer of ice was literally forming on it - so harsh and frosty it was. 

She began a shaky, stumbling descent. Arwen was the one dying this day. Irulan would live to carry the shame. 

Her eyes flew open and she gasped. Her hand clutched her heart, her knuckles turning pale with the force she was using to do so. "Shhhhhh," someone said beside her, but Irulan had no idea who it was. Neither was she aware of the strong and warm grasp that prevented her from moving. For a long moment she sat, in a state of absolute confusion and shock. "Relax, Irulan," came the voice again, "let it go. Let it pass." 

Very, very slowly those words gained meaning as she felt a gentle but great force engulfing her and tipping her mind into action once more. It pushed aside the heavy haze of confusion and enfolded her like a warm blanket. Irulan swallowed and began to tremble involuntarily. "That's my girl," came the voice once more and she felt the arms around her waist encircling her stronger. "Let go." She swallowed, shaking stronger and incredibly afraid of this physical reaction of her body that she could not understand. 

Before she knew what was happening, she had begun to cry - which was a natural reaction to the shock she was in. The elf held her, caressing her back as she sobbed, still shaking like a leaf. She felt the red, heated pain diminishing and knew that it was not a natural fading. It was being extinguished like a fire. Soothed like a sore muscle. Bandaged like a wound. "Baeron!" she whimpered, her other hand finding his arm across her waist. "I want to go home." Her voice was strange to her own ears - the voice of a child. "Please...I want to go back. I want to unmake it all."

He hushed and soothed her and for Irulan, an eternity passed. She pleaded for him to take her back in time. To erase it all. To place her into New York a week from this day. To the era before England. Before Legolas. Before the love, the lies and the mistakes. And if Baeron had possessed that sort of power, he would have used it without the slightest hesitation - so great was his own pain at the sight of hers. Once again, he was witness to the frailty of mortals. To their fragility. Once again he was witness to the fact that they were simply incapable of lifting the heavy load that an elf was. And yet...how he wanted her! How a part of him stubbornly continued to believe that he could take care of her. That he could make her happy and content and that he could prevent the agony. 

Almost an hour passed and they remained like that - Baeron lost in his own battle while Irulan was fighting hers. Hope is a mighty force and no matter what, one falls prey to its lure. Against all past deeds, against all proven failures, one wants to believe that this time it will be different. That this time there will be victory at last. 

Irulan finally gave in to tiredness and fell asleep in his arms and Baeron, with the tenderness of a mother putting her baby to sleep, placed her back on the bed, covered her. He did not sleep again and remained watchful of her until the bright day won over the darkness in Madrid.

***

When she woke up the second time, it was a bright day. Slowly she sat up, once again feeling confused. She had a terrible headache and suddenly remembered that she had had a very similar one when she woke up in Paris after that dreadful dream. How ironic it was – Legolas had been with her, then. He had eased her suffering. And this day, when it was his pain that had haunted her, Baeron had repaid that debt. 

The idea of Baeron strung a cord in her and Irulan walked to the bathroom. He wasn't there, either. A little alarmed at that, she hastily dressed, then sat on the bed to wait. 

Thankfully fifteen minutes later he walked through the door, looking as wonderful as ever. "Forgive me. I had to leave you for a short while." She jumped to her feet and he came to loom over her, his gaze heavy on her. Again, his fingers glided down her cheek and again she smiled at the gesture. "Breakfast time?" he said gently. Irulan nodded. To her surprise he leaned in and placed a single, gentle kiss on her lips. There was no passion in it - just the tender care of a friend and therefore she felt no discomfort. "Are you rested?" 

"I am," she said. "Thank you, Baeron. I know it sounds lame...but I have nothing better to say. You saved me."

He smiled, a look of astonishment on his face and bowed his head gently, not tearing his gaze from hers. "It was an honor, King-daughter." Irulan smiled and bowed her head in a similar fashion. A moment passed between them. He sighed and combed his fingers through her hair, like he had done the first time they had met – even before he had said hello. "It is nothing compared to what you have done for me." His smile became a little broader then. "Or to what you have done for Lord Legolas."

Irulan exhaled, casting her gaze down. "Your burden is beyond me," she murmured, biting her cheeks. "I wish I could take all of it."

"Nay," he said gently, touching her temple. "Who would we be without our pain?"

The strangest feeling came over her. 'Who would we be without our pain?' she thought, stupefied. She did not know why, but the question woke something in her. It stirred her. Rang the bell of truth. She did not get to delve into it deeper as, once again proving his typical stormy ways, Baeron grinned a moment later and turned from tender courtier to mischievous child in a single instant. "Speaking of Legolas...he is in Madrid."

Her head snapped up in utter shock to that. "WHAT?!" She gave the door an alarmed look as if the elf would walk through it any moment. Her heart broke into a hasty pace as she locked eyes with a rather relaxed Baeron once more. "Where?!"

"He has been to our former hotel, as I have told you he would." 

Irulan swallowed hard. The idea that Legolas had come so swiftly and was actually somewhere in the same city this moment was very...scary. What if he had found them sleeping here last night? Her vision almost darkened with the idea alone and she grasped his forearm in alarm. "Oh my God! What will happen now?!"

Baeron merely shrugged. "It would be wise to leave before he arrives here."

Her eyes widened incredibly and she dug her fingers into his arm. "Let's go then!" she almost yelled. The elf grasped her hand in a gentle manner and guided her out of the room. He kept himself from laughing at the anxious looks she was throwing around and pulled her down the little street. They ended up at a cafe and Irulan gave it a disbelieving look before he turned to him.

"We still have to eat, don't we?" he said calmly. 

"No! We should go! Now!"

Baeron ignored her statement and pulled her to a table somewhere in the back of the room. "Stop fretting, Irulan. He does not possess a Palantir stone. He cannot find us so soon if we are cautious."

"But...I mean...this is ridiculous! We should call him and tell him to stay away!"

Baeron shrugged again. He rummaged in his pockets for a moment, then gave her a few Spanish money bills. "You can try, of course. Though I doubt that it will work." She gave the bills a confused look and finally met his eyes again. "Do not turn on your cell phone. He will find you in a matter of minutes, then." She swallowed hard and unwillingly her gaze went to his pocket. No doubt, he had done the same. 

"How could he find us?"

"Do not underestimate the Circle. They have many means of locating people. Tracking these phones via satellites is merely one of them." He smiled at her horrified look. "Don't worry. I know their ways well enough." He pushed her gently down and she sank into her chair, a shade paler than usual. "But even I can not evade someone like Lord Legolas for too long. Eventually, our ways will cross. It is only a matter of time." He held her hand and the contact made her look at him. He smiled a reassuring smile. "But that time is essential for you now. Forget about all else and listen to your inner self, Irulan. I am buying this time for you. Clean your burdens and free yourself of your past weights." 

Their breakfast arrived and though Irulan did not feel hungry in the least, the man forced her to continue and she unwillingly obliged. A long string of minutes passed as Irulan remained looking down at her plate, chewing absent-mindedly as the elf sat, observing her. Against all his wish to let this moment continue and to keep this peaceful atmosphere between them, he knew that he had to break it once again. For he was determined to be honest with her till the very end. "Irulan..." he began carefully, "...there is something you must know. About Legolas and me." She remained still and expectant. "This will not be the first time we have...come to...disagree." She blinked in surprise as he nodded to confirm his words. "It was many centuries ago. But once, a woman tore us apart. And we ended up doing the same thing to her, I'm afraid." The last part came out somewhat bitter. "I loved her very much. As much as Legolas loves you now." A dangerous fire licked his hazel eyes and he let a moment of silence prevail. "That is how I know that he will stop at nothing to get you back. For I have done it. And paid for it dearly."

Shocked by this sudden discovery and more so by his deep sadness she sensed from him, she remained gaping at him. "I...I had no idea," she stammered, the fork forgotten in her hand. She could not imagine Legolas and Baeron getting into some drastic confrontation about anything. They seemed to like and respect each other genuinely and had never shown anything other than slight, friendly competition in her presence. 

"It is an old and sad tale. We do not talk much about it," he sighed, leaning back a little and placed his arm on the table between them, remaining observant of her. 

"But...I'm sure that it is behind you now," she tried, unable to match their current relationship to a past like that. "You do not seem to be spiteful anymore."

"No...we have buried that spite together. Or so I hope." He halted and looked away, chewing his lower lip for a moment. "It is funny how mortals think us to be strong." His hazel eyes found hers again, the sparkle of a glimmer in them. "I always thought us much weaker. And needy."

"I understand," she said when the silence prevailed in the darkness settling on her heart. Actually that was a lie, because at this moment Irulan was in a state of perfect confusion and understood nothing. Except one single clear fact: She had walked into a minefield with the stupidity and ignorance of walking into Disneyland. As a matter of fact, she had stepped on one. And now, she could not move, for the slightest movement would make it explode right in her face. 'Oh my God!' was all she could think of at the moment. 'Oh my God! I am trapped! They will kill each other and *I* will be the reason for it! Oh sweet God!'

She became incredibly pale and the elf released his fork to find her hand. "I have told you the truth. As it rings in my heart." He leaned slightly forward then. "It is an honor to be the one you turn to when you feel in need, Irulan. You can not know how happy you made me this day." He gently squeezed her fingers and she just stared back, shrouded in alarm. "Do not deprive me of it now." He brought up her hand and placed a kiss on the back of it, locking eyes with her once more. 

"Baeron…I love you both," Irulan began cautiously, and it was true. Though with very different ardor, she loved both of these men immensely and could not imagine witnessing the pain of either. "I don't want my stupid act to break you apart."

"If we break apart, it won't be your stupid act, my friend," he said with encouragement. "It will be because of ours." A moment passed as she just whimpered with desperation. "Our past has nothing to do with you, Irulan," said Baeron finally. "Neither does my love of you. Do not burden yourself with things that don't belong to you." 

Another minute passed as Irulan played with her food, biting her lower lip in indecision. Finally she thought it more appealing to ask and still her curiosity. "What of this other woman? What was her name?"

Baeron hesitated momentarily. "Bentanta," he sighed, his eyes glazing over. A long silence set in and Irulan waited it out. "She took her own life."

For a moment she thought she did not hear him right. But when Baeron's knuckles whitened as he held his fork and he avoided meeting her gaze, she knew that she had not misheard him after all. A long time passed and neither ate, the sound of conversation in the background filling the terrible vacuum between them. Irulan did not have the heart to break it and Baeron looked like he had no intentions of doing so.

Some time they remained like that, stuffed into their own private Hells. 'What have I gotten myself into?!' she thought, a little amazed that this was actually happening. The horror of the situation seemed almost fictional. "I will speak to him," she said finally with a shaky voice. "Perhaps I can convince him. This is madness!" 

Baeron did not object again. He smiled and nodded, pointing to the phone that stood on the far end of the counter of the cafe. Some waiter reset the counter and she dialed the castle number Baeron had given him. The man who picked up the phone told her that Lord Greenleaf was overseas at the moment. "I know," she interrupted with haste. "How can I reach him?"

A moment passed. "Is this Lady Irulan?" 

She blinked, feeling suddenly uneasy. "Yes?"

"He has a cell phone with him, Miss," he said then and it sounded very much like forced blankness. "He told me to give you the number." 

Irulan thanked him, then wrote it down on a napkin and hastily dialed it after hanging up. It rang once. "Yes?" came his calm voice and once again she felt drawn to it despite her best control. 

"Legolas! Are you in Madrid?!" she said before she could stop herself. 

A momentary hesitation. "Irulan! Tell me where you are. This moment!"

She pursed her lips and glanced at Baeron who was having his breakfast in utter calmness. "Are you mad?! I told you not to come!"

"And I told you that I would," he said with his blank voice. "Tell me where you are and give me ten minutes to come. We will leave and all this will end for the better."

"Why don't you understand?" she whined this time, massaging her face. "You have to let me go! You are scaring me, you have to stop before this gets out of control, Legolas."

He sighed a tired sigh and she sensed his brief, but evident hesitation. "It is too late," he said gently. "I am here. Do not desert me like this, Irulan. Please...is it so much to ask for another chance? Is our possible future not worth it?"

This time it was her that hesitated. "I told you before. I will return. But only when *I* am ready. You can not hunt me down like some animal!"

"It is not you I am hunting," he said then, his voice dangerously low. 

Irulan swallowed and threw another glance at Baeron. "Legolas...I did not know about....about...your past. I don't want you two to do something foolish because of me." 

A very long moment passed and Irulan glanced at Baeron again. Miraculously he chose that moment to turn and lock eyes with her and though she could not read his expression, she felt intimidated by it. "I thought I regretted my choices with her," Legolas said finally, and his voice was gentle steel. "But now I see that I have fooled myself. For I am ready to repeat them again." Irulan felt the hair on her nape rise to his words and at his tone. Her mind went blank. 

"Legolas!" she whispered in urgency, breaking eye contact with the other elf. "Baeron has no fault in this, I tell you! *I* came to him! I...I had no idea that...I mean that you two had..." The thought of another woman having caused serious friction between these two was rather interesting. But the fact that now she herself was in said woman's position was not interesting at all. It was simply horrifying. 

When he spoke again to cut her off, Irulan literally feared for her life. "Is it true that he kissed you?" All sense left her at that question and she felt incredible shame, as if Legolas himself had witnessed it.

"W-what?" she managed to choke out after a long silence. 

"The people at the restaurant told me," was his calm statement. "Is it true?" 

She could not deny it. But there was no way on earth she could confirm it, either! Battling with these thoughts, she remained still as her blush deepened into crimson. "Legolas," she whispered finally, "you MUST stop. You are....you are not yourself. You must stop and think what you are doing. You cannot win me in this manner. Please just..."

"He kissed you," he said, and it sounded like a death sentence. "Knowing that you are mine. Knowing that I am coming for you. Knowing that it would kill me." She swallowed, the world whirling around her. "I will never stop until this is over."

"It meant nothing!" she said, wishing she would just drop and die on the spot. "He was...he...he...he is only a friend to me, Legolas. I feel nothing for him." He said nothing in return and that made her only more afraid. "This is all my fault! *I* came to him! I drew him into this! Please...just..."

"You are a child, Irulan. I understand the motivation for your actions. Do not stand between Baeron and me - this is beyond you now. 

"I will come to you, then. I will. Only...please don't harm him." A momentary silence followed. "Promise, Legolas."

A long moment passed before the other elf spoke again. "You do not understand, do you?" he said slowly. "He kissed you, Irulan. Never will he go back on that. He will not let you go. I must come to take you."

'What have you done?!' she thought...the world spinning faster and faster. 'Stupid, stupid, stupid Irulan…what have you done?' She spoke, the words falling from her lips independent of her mind "No...he will let me…he is...I will wait for you here, Legolas. He will let me." She glanced at Baeron and met his gaze. At that moment she knew that he was right - she was trapped between the two and the choice was not hers anymore. 

He sighed deftly and waited another moment. "I will locate this number and come for you. If you are there and alone, this will end and I promise not to pursue it further. For you and you only, Irulan, I promise. But if you are not there....never repeat this request again."

Irulan swallowed hard, her eyes still glued to the other elf, who rose from his seat and began to walk towards her. "All right, Legolas," she mumbled, shocked by the recent events, then placed the receiver in its cradle as the blonde man arrived by her side, a look of alarm on his face. "Why are you so pale? What happened?" he asked concerned. 

"I must go to him," she stammered, her lungs refusing to breathe. "Baeron...leave. I will wait here for Legolas."

He gave her a long look and exhaled before he cupped her face and caressed her cheek. "Then I will wait with you."

She covered her face with her hands and began to cry. Feeling guilty. Ashamed. Stupid. Lost. "Please go," she cried, her voice muffled as he caressed her back in a gentle manner. "Please go. It is the only way."

"Not for me," he whispered, continuing his caress as he gave the waiter bills for the call and the breakfast. "I can not leave you."

Irulan removed her hands and looked at him, her face flushed and tear-stricken. "Go," she whispered in urgency. "Please!"

He only shook his head. "The only way I leave this place will be with you." He took a step back and held out his hand. "Come with me, Irulan."

She whimpered and glanced at the door. If she remained Legolas would come and they both would do something....well she did not know what but she was sure that it would be very, very bad. She could not sit here and allow them to meet. It was like brimstone meeting fire and anyone who sat around for that was stupid! Forget about her – they would destroy each other for sure! If she went with him, Legolas would find them eventually and the same thing would happen. In reality, the only choice she possessed was that of WHEN it would happen. Now...or sometime later. 

And any time was better than now. 

For "later" meant hope. Hope that she could change the path of the cart that was running downhill with a wild pace. Hope that something would happen and save her. Save them. Hope that a miracle would come and unmake all her mistakes. 

It was this hope that made her fingers reach out and find his offered hand and it was with this hope that she convinced herself that she was making the right choice when his hand closed and enfolded hers. And thanks to that hope she did not flinch when he raised it and his lips landed on the back of it, speaking of gratitude and relief. And it was on the trail of that hope that she allowed him to pull her out of the cafe, into the crowded streets of Madrid. 

Fate cared nothing for her departure. Neither did She care for innocence, guilt or regret. In the chamber where she sat and stitched, those were empty words. She chose the yarns, aligned the threads and weaved on, unmoved by pain, longing or love. Millennia were the blink of an eye to Her and Time was a joke. She had began this design long ago and she would not stop until she had tied all loose ends for good.

***

"How long ago did they leave?" he said, dismissively pulling out a stack of large bills for the waiter behind the counter as his eyes darted around the cafe and lingered on the table he had pointed out a moment ago. The man threw a disbelieving look at the bills, then back at this man whom he feared for no apparent reason at all. Legolas placed the stack on the counter and pushed it towards him, withdrawing his hand as his blue gaze never wavered. 

"Do you want me to kill them, senor?" he said with open shock, certain that this kind of money would not be paid for less. 

Legolas said nothing in reply, his face as blank as a face could be. "Reply to my questions. I ask for nothing further."

The man glanced around uneasily, then hastily took the money and stuffed it into his pocket. "Merely fifteen minutes ago, senor."

Legolas nodded, looking down at the phone that stood before him. His long fingers glided along the receiver, his heart pulsing with the need to touch her again. "Tell me what you have seen or heard."

"Well... they had breakfast. Then she made a phone call. Then he came and they...had a discussion." He scratched his head, trying to remember. "Then she cried." His gaze found the blue steel of Legolas and again, he felt nervous for no reason. "And I think they argued...because she kept shaking her head and he would not give in. And then she finally obliged and took his hand. They left."

Legolas sighed and nodded, focusing on the phone again, as his fingers ran over the receiver. "Tell me all. Every word. Every detail."

The man laughed, shaking his head. "I have work to do, senor!"

Legolas removed another stack and gently left it on the counter, not diverting his eyes from the phone. "No you don't," he said slowly. "You don't."

***


	23. Through the Mist of the Past

Ah…so many hate Irulan now! I guess she should have stayed behind and become Legolas' humble and obedient servant, huh? Sigh…I guess she was not as submissive as thought, was she? All aside…who can say that we always act with our reason and our calm, cool mind? Most of the time we act out of sheer fear, passion or greed. Irulan is not perfect. Nobody in this story is. They are driven by their own needs and fears and though we might wish it to be different, so are we, my friends. 

Baeron bought them train tickets with cash and under different names (to bribe one's way around Madrid seemed to be surprisingly easy). He said that they could not take the plane, unless they were willing to wait for his friends to prepare a fake ID for Irulan (he himself had several such papers that no one knew about), because they could not bribe themselves to travel incognito on an international flight. Even if fake IDs and passports were prepared for her, the Circle would immediately know about it, and therefore that option was pointless anyway. 

Irulan didn't really listen to all the intricacies of traveling without being caught. She looked out to the view of Madrid as the cab took them to the train station after they had shopped for clothes and necessities. Legolas was there...somewhere out there. So close and yet so far. 

An incredible regret was running through her, more so with every minute she stayed with Baeron. The regret of having come to him. For in her own greediness to avoid her lover, she had dragged this man into unpleasant danger and a sound fight with his friend for over thousands of years. She had always hated the women who ended up doing that in novels or movies. But now, Irulan the Great, was doing that very same thing - pulling two old friends into a fight over her silly self! 

She sighed and swallowed softly. Not that she had a choice now! Now, instead of running from one elf, she had managed to put herself in a position where she was claimed by two! 'I mean...how stupid do you have to be to end up here?!' she thought, the confidence and respect she used to feel for herself drastically diminished in these last days. 

But then...she didn't know about the Bentanta issue. Neither did she know that elves simply came with a price. They were fabulous beings - and better than any Man, true. But their company and their love were not free. Their overwhelming presence robbed you of your breath and you could just say goodbye to your modern ways. For no elf was modern in their relationships and none would ever try to be. They were gentle and kind. Respectful and reserved. But once you said 'yes' to them, nothing could undo your word and you were forced to submit to their ways. Gently they would rule you. Softly pull you along. Tenderly convince you. But rule, pull and convince you they would nevertheless. 

'I am so stupid!' she thought again, unable to think anything else of herself. 'I should have never come to Baeron! Never should I have sought the help of an elf who had feelings for me. What made me think that he would be different than Legolas in this matter?' 

"Irulan, you have been very quiet," he said just then. 

She turned to him, giving him a soft smile. "I was thinking."

He found her hand again. Just like Legolas, Baeron too refused to slow down his advances, even in her current state. "About Legolas, yes?" was the cautious question. 

Caught a little off-guard at that, she cast her gaze down to their entwined grasp. "Him, too." A moment passed. "I fear that I have done something irreversible, Baeron," she said finally, finding his hazel gaze once more. "I should have never come to you. I mean...it seems so stupid. We had an argument...and everything spun so out of control! Because of me. Maybe I should have stayed at the castle and done as he wanted."

"To be honest, you should have," was his simple reply. 

Irulan sighed with frustration and gave him a sour look. He grinned in return, delivering a kiss on the back of her hand. 

"I only wanted a little space. To...think about things. I feared that if I left alone, he would find me..."

"Which he would, no doubt, in a matter of hours," he inserted smoothly.

"...and I guess...I didn't want to be alone. So I called you. But...Baeron, I would hate myself if your friendship is ruined because of my stupidity."

"If it is ruined, the cause is not your, but our own stupidity," was his gentle reply. "You did what every person in your position would." She nodded, trying to convince herself of his words. "Any woman would choose me over Lord Legolas," was his lofty addition. 

Irulan smacked him on the shoulder. "I did not choose you over him!"

"Yet," he said, grinning again. Irulan rolled her eyes and shook her head. A moment later she was pulled to him and remained pressed to his chest, shocked to immobility. Baeron had a tendency of changing with lightning speed and could go from friendly to arduous so fast, that it was simply beyond her to be prepared for that. "You are still his lover," he whispered into her ear and gave it a warm kiss. She swallowed hard, trying to resist the urge to tremble at that. "And what I am doing now is very, very unbecoming. But...I don't care, Irulan. I will make sure that you get the option of choice." Another kiss landed on her neck and Irulan this time placed her hands on his shoulders and tried to push him off. It had no effect on him at all. "I will buy you the time to consider. If you decide to go back to him -not to save me or to do his wish, but out of love and compliance on your own behalf- I will stay in your way no longer." She managed to push herself enough to look up to his incredibly intense eyes and froze, her hand stiff on his chest. "I was always honest with you, was I not?" he said then, almost playfully. She nodded with unease. "Even at the risk of losing your liking, I would not change that." A moment passed as his hand combed back her hair, his eyes following the movement. "I desire you, Irulan. More than you can imagine. But I will not go further than a kiss, until you make a choice. I am still that much of an elf." He sighed with regret and cupped her chin once more, a strange fire leaking from his entire frame. "Lord Legolas knows this. He knows that I will do anything in my power to convince you. Just like he has done. It is only understandable that he will do anything in his, to prevent it." He pulled slightly back and combed his fingers through her hair. "We have been down that road before. Him and me."

She nodded. "Bentanta."

The elf gave her a long, deep look and she dared not move, remaining pressed against him with unease. "Indeed," he said almost minutes later and his grip softened. Irulan moved back to her former position, trying to still her breathing. Baeron did not look away from her, a thoughtful expression on his face as he sighed. "One would think we would have learned after that payment."

"Tell me of her," she said quietly. "What was she like?"

"I am not the right man to ask," he said after another long interval, cocking his head and continuing his caress of her face. "For to me, she was perfection."

Irulan bit her lower lip. "And to Legolas?"

"Again," he sighed, "I am not the right man to ask. You have to ask him." She cast her gaze down, feeling uneasy. "Bentanta meant much to him as well, I am certain of that," he said then. Irulan nodded, unable to meet his gaze. "But I know that it was incomparable to what he feels for you." 

She smiled deftly. Their looks might be resembling humans more than ever, but they were still as different from their Younger Brothers as can be. "What exactly happened?" she said, forcing a slight anger into her voice. "If you have confused her as you are confusing me, she must have gone mad!"

The reply was a silent, broken smile and for a moment, thinking that she had hit on the truth, Irulan froze, ashamed. He inspected their hands leisurely before he spoke. "It was not her that went mad. But Legolas and me." He grimaced and looked out the window, the passing view of Madrid bright and sunlit. "We pushed her and pushed her and pushed her. At one point I think we became so blind with the desire for victory, that we forgot her frailty. The frailty of a human girl. Of one who is young and naive. Who is tender and gentle. And yet we pushed on." He turned to lock eyes with her and Irulan swallowed hard at the anger and sorrow that pulsed out from him and filled the vehicle. It was sharp enough to even make the rather uninterested and unkempt driver glance at the couple in the backseat, shifting with uncertainty at the sentiment of sadness that enveloped him. 

"Whom did she choose?" Irulan whispered, despite herself. 

"She chose neither," was his final reply. "She chose wisely."

A very long time passed in silence and finally they pulled into the train station. Baeron paid, then found their bags and stepped out, Irulan following at his heels. Her eyes nervously scanned the surrounding, looking for Legolas. She was not used to hiding or running like this and to be honest, it was not a thing she would wish to get used to. Even when they finally found their seats in the dilapidated and extremely old train, did she not find it in her to relax. Even when the cabin began to shake and squeak and the train began to move, was she tense. Only after half an hour of hectic riding did Irulan breathe out gently and lean back with relief. Again, they had managed to evade him. For how long? Who knew? She glanced at Baeron, but the elf was looking out the window, in deep thought. Irulan dared not break his concentration and instead, joined his inspection of the scenery of Spain as they glided out of Madrid, where the true love of her life was. 

***

"The day is bright, Princess!" greeted Baeron, placing his fist on his heart and bowing slightly. His sandy blonde hair hung freely down to his waist, several strands separated and held back with leather cords, leaving his tanned face in the open. He looked magnificent with his current attire of cream colored and light blue cloth, draped over his well built figure and leaving a good part of his torso open to the glimpse. 

Yet in his eyes that elven beauty was incomparable to what the girl before him held. Her skin the color of the earth, her hair as black as a raven's wings, the normally curly texture of it flattened and parted in the middle, allowing it to flow down to her waist like a soft whisper. Her eyes were painted with dark coal, pronouncing her light brown orbs even further. But it was not her slim and fragile figure, or the white linen dress or the golden ornaments she wore that Baeron saw. Neither was it her perfect eyebrows or the high cheekbones or the slender neck. It was simply her essence that flowed from her like gentle and cool water in the desert that was Egypt. She grinned a similar grin, her white pearly teeth showing for a moment before she playfully walked to his side and with no hesitation slid her slender fingers through his blonde mane, as she always did. The bracelets on her wrist jingled and Baeron just remained fixed on her, unable to look away. 

"You tease me again, Kamoses!" she said playfully, the grin turning into a fabulous smile while he simply forgot to breathe. "You know I cannot resist your hair when you leave it like this." The elf remained perfectly still as she combed her fingers through it once more, her brown eyes following the act. Again the bracelets jingled. It was like music to his soul. "It is the color of Egypt," she sighed, the golden and sand colored strands flowing over her fingertips. "But like the Nile to the touch." Bentanta locked eyes with the mesmerized man, smiling a slender smile. "What magic is this?" 

Finally, his minding scolding him repeatedly how unbefitting this was for someone of his age, Baeron smiled and turned to her, his height not uncomfortable because she stood still on a higher step than him. "I posses no magic, Princess," was his gentle reply, together with a smile of tender joy. "I am prey to yours." 

She smiled brighter, another one of those tempting grins forming on her face as she released his hair and the jewelry jingled a final time when she lowered her arm. Her eyes squinted as she gazed into the open, over the workers sweating under the heated sun of midday and the gigantic blocks of stone pulled back and forth. A warm breeze lifted the ends of her hair ever so slightly, playing with her white dress and carrying the scent of the lotus flower to him. "All this work, Master Kamoses," she said, the left corner of her lips curved up, "for the sole desire to be remembered forever?" 

Her eyes found him again and another episode of speechless staring threatened to come over him. Thankfully this time he was faster and managed to tuck it away. He joined her inspection, delivering the scrolls to his left hand. "You should ask your father," he said almost playfully. 

"So you do not share his desire in this field?" 

"I have come to learn that nothing lasts forever," he whispered as his hazel eyes locked into her immaculate, light brown ones. 

She cocked her head, her smile not vanishing. Only death would wipe it from her visage. "Though not the remembrance of my father's rule, your work might," was her amused response. 

"It would be useless, then," he sighed, tearing his eyes from hers and swallowing softly. "For it is being made for that purpose." 

"A priest once told me that things serve their own purposes - not the ones we attribute them," was her mysterious statement as she playfully wiggled her eyebrows, breaking into chuckles - very unbecoming of a princess but incredibly attractive to the elf. Bentanta glided down the steps then and he followed, feeling helpless and foolish in her presence. "What say you, Great Architect?" 

"I say that the Princess is as wise as she is beautiful," he managed to choke out finally, finding no other response in the heat of her aura. 

"Would you say that the same is true for people?" she continued, as always ignoring his compliment of her. 

"I suppose so," he said, not really thinking out his words. 

"What would be my purpose, then?" Bentanta said suddenly, turning around to face him. Baeron, caught by surprise, halted as his eyes glided over her hair flowing out to settle back on her waist and her arms clasped behind her. His eyes traveled up to her young face and over the amused and innocent expression that he had come to love so dearly. 

"I..." he began, and feeling his throat run dry, tried again. "I...think..." No mocking was on her face as she regarded him, expectant and silent. He swallowed, his mind suffering an incredible overload that he had come to recognize as love. He felt himself on fire, and yet under water. Subject to heated torment, and cool, gentle caress. A very long moment passed and he cast his gaze down, pursing his lips. He was a fool! Standing here, in front of the one person to whom he wanted to look mature and impressive, and stuttering like some imbecile! What was Bentanta, shy of twenty years, compared to Baeron, hundreds of times her age? What was Bentanta, a Princess who would never assume the throne and probably never even enter the history books, for not only was she a woman, but one of countless of the Pharaoh's children, compared to Baeron - an elf and a creature of mighty power? Her life was the blink of an eye, then she would perish and be forgotten by all who had laid eyes on her. And those who had laid eyes on those. And so on - for generations. Baeron would remain, almost completely unchanged, if not more beautiful. 

Unfortunately the thoughts served him no good. This moment she was all and he was nothing. 

"Do not ask me that, Princess," he managed finally, his eyes on the stone steps between them. "I don't have the words to express it." A moment passed as he tried to shake off the daze, feeling more childish by the moment. "Neither do I have the skills to manifest it!" he added with a loftier tone, forcing a grin to his face as his eyes found hers once more. He swept his arm out over the working men, and his mighty work in the distance. 

To his utter surprise she glided closer to him, her hands still clasped behind, her face cocked slightly, a mischievous expression on her young face. "You always speak in such riddles to me! Must I command you for answers, Master Kamoses?" she chuckled, softly shaking her head. 

It was a miracle that he did not grab her neck, pull her towards himself and kiss her at that moment. A miracle that, no doubt, saved his head. 'What torment is this?' he thought, literally dazed by its aching agony. 'Where is the big fool who said that love is a tender and lovely sentiment?' His hand reached out on its own accord and to the tantalizing surprise of both man and woman, glided through her long hair, very much like she always glided her slender fingers through his. A bluish wave accompanied his pale hand as the dark mass reflected his movement in the daylight. 

Both remained frozen at the very unexpected, dangerous and also quite ill-mannered action. He rose his eyes to meet hers, finding a combination of shock, alarm, intrigue and amusement there. Every fiber in his body screamed with love for her and he knew with certainty that even if she had been a goddess, he would be incapable of more admiration than what he was feeling this moment. The torment deepened further and further, almost physical in its essence. He parted his lips and the word fell out by itself, a whisper as gentle as the warm breeze that swept over the land of Egypt… "Bentanta." 

She said nothing, and in return, only smiled very slowly. This day she would be silent. Later days he would listen to her beautiful voice as she lay in his arms, her skin smelling of the lotus flower, of sand and musky earth. He would listen to her little dreams and her fragile hopes and her tender fears and comb his hand through her raven hair, his lips traveling over her warm body, slim and perfect. He would silence her then, his lips demanding on hers, his hands gentle and possessive, and for a long time speech would give in to the whispers and moans of love and desire. Such flame was this woman! Such burning ache. Such sweet torture. No matter how much he had her, he just wanted her more. Their minds would never match. Their experience never equal. But it meant nothing, for in an unspoken, unexplainable and irreversible way, she was made for him. Him alone. 

Until one day an old friend came to visit. And Bentanta spoke no more of herself. Instead, she marveled how the eyes of Baeron's friend were the color of the Nile and his hair like the silver thread of the Moon God Chons. She chimed continuously with awe of his wisdom that was like the bright and brilliant sun of Egypt. This man, with a passion like the heat of the desert and heart like the scent of the lotus flower, came to the palace and Baeron's castle of hope and love dissolved, very much like his work had dissolved into the sands of Egypt… 

Baeron blinked and turned his head to her, his eyes sparkling in the darkness of the cabin. His gaze did a quick round, then found her again, sitting with her knees drawn up in the darkness. Her expression was timid and alarmed and she looked like a little child. They locked to each other for a moment and she bit her lower lip, waiting anxiously. "Come here," was his gentle command. Irulan only swallowed and cast her gaze down. A short silence followed. "Come," he said again, this time holding out his hand. 

"I'm fine here," she managed to say finally, shaking her head. She had not turned on the lights. She had not even moved. The bitterness and longing in the cabin was like a cold chill and Irulan had sat through it, feeling small and afraid. She did not have the heart to interfere in whatever he was going through. He sighed and got to his feet and came to stand before her, his dark figure looming over her. Irulan looked up at him, but could not see his expression. He stood in silence for a moment, then leaned down, his hand finding her chin and cupping it. 

"No you're not," he said softly, his thumb drawing lazy circles on her cheek. "You are cold." Another moment passed and she did not speak. "Do you fear me, Irulan?"

"No," she said immediately. 

He nodded but she did not see it. "You must forgive me. I was...carried away."

She nodded. "It's all right. I have been thinking, too."

"Have you, now?" he said, sudden amusement in his tone. Irulan, instantly feeling relieved, rolled her eyes in mock frustration. A moment later she cried out when Baeron picked her up and walked back to his seat by the window. "What about?" he said, sitting back with Irulan still on his lap. She tried to push him away weakly, feeling discomfort and mocking it, too, so that it would not look too childish. "Let me guess," he whispered to her ear playfully, pulling her to himself. 

"Baeron, enough already!" she groaned, chuckling a little despite herself. 

He stilled then, pulling a little back to give her a better look. The scenery of a southern Spanish countryside was passing by them – the Moon up in the dark sky as fields and farms swished by. "I have been thinking about him, too," was his slow statement. 

She waited a little, inhaling deeply and trying to imagine what he could be thinking about Legolas that had caused such an atmosphere of dread in the cabin. The answer became obvious to her in moments, but she did not prod on, eager to remain respectful. "Baeron...you need to let me go," she whispered finally, her fingers playing with his shirt. "Then...then everything will be better. The three of us will be friends. Like in Vienna." She rambled on and he listened with patience, his hand caressing her back as she sat sideways on his lap, her face turned to the passing view but her eyes on his shirt. "If you let me go and I..."

"Vienna is behind us now, Irulan. You must say good-bye to it." Irulan swallowed again, her eyes still on his shirt. His hand traveled up to her hair and he combed through it. "It is YOU who must let go."

"What of Legolas?! He is your friend!"

He did not answer immediately and the silence made her feel very self-conscious. "He is more than a friend," was his final reply. "Nevertheless, I will not walk back on this, Irulan," was the sterner addition. "I am ready to face all that comes with it. I will protect you and guard you until you make up your mind. But not before that will I let you go. Not for the sake of saving me. Or saving Legolas. You need to understand your heart and you need to understand love." Baeron halted shortly before his tone gained a more bitter and strangled edge to it. "It is not a word of poems alone. It is also a spike. A blade. A loop. All comes with a price." He gulped, his voice fading into a whisper. "We are stones set in motion. We can NOT stop. At this point, it is beyond us." Once again his hand delved into her hair and soothed her anxious spirit with the constant motion of gentle combing. "You only see your part. But there is much between Lord Legolas and I that fuels this battle. Our past. Our pride. Our greed. Our nature. Even WE are weak in the face of such things." He sighed regretfully, locking eyes with her as Spain passed by them and the night moved on. "Sadly, so are you," was his final addition. "Sadly, so are you, Irulan." 

***

"I'll be damned! This tastes GOOD!" Gimli barked and banged his empty mug on the wooden table, forcing the cutlery on it into a clatter. He burped loudly, as if it was a compliment to the ale, and glanced over his shoulder to the bar. 

"Would you like another one, Master Gimli?" Sam said with enthusiasm. 

"Huh?! Well of course! This was nothing but a mere tasting yet," the dwarf rumbled as droplets of ale ran down his long red beard. A sly grin appeared on his face suddenly. "But...you've been running back and forth too much, lad! I can get my own!" 

"Oh no! Not at all," said Sam, a little uneasy, scratching his hair. Legolas noticed the red spreading on his cheeks that was a different hue from the one that came with the alcohol. He smiled and crossed his arms on his chest, leaning back on the bank he was sitting on. 

"Why, it'll be good exercise," insisted Gimli with hooded eyes. "Besides...there is that gorgeous hobbit at the bar back there...I would very much like to meet her." 

Sam's head snapped up to lock to his eyes as Frodo grinned to Legolas, then cast his head down to his own mug which -the elf realized- stood as full as it had hours ago. "Oh...," was the only reply he could come up with. 

"You mean Rosie?" came Gandalf's amused voice as he, too, ignored the hobbit who stood, shifting from one foot to the other with discomfort. 

"That's her name?!" said Gimli with mock surprise. "By the Heavens! Why, it fits her perfect!" Sam only swallowed in reply. 

"Indeed," drawled Gandalf, sipping on his pipe before he continued: "But I doubt that you are the reason she is eyeing our table for hours now, Gimli." 

"Eh...don't tell me it's Pointy Ears here, again! Has NO woman in Middle Earth taste in men, any longer?!" He banged his fist on the table as Legolas' smile spread to become a grin. 

The elf glanced over his shoulder, finding the object of the argument. "She is very beautiful indeed," he mused. "Alas, I'm afraid there are more famous heroes here that have caught her attention." 

"How on earth would you know that?!" sighed an annoyed Gimli, shifting a little to give him a sidelong glance. 

The other's eyebrows rose gracefully. "Because I have pointy ears, of course" he said loftily. Following the groan of the dwarf, he continued, his long slender fingers playing with his own mug. "They have heard of her praise for another." 

"Another?! Who?!" yelped Sam before he could stop himself. 

Frodo grinned again and just for the sole intention of hiding it, took his first gulp from his mug. A shrill song began at that very moment and he almost spit it out at the terrible voices that sang it. The entire company turned to the far corner of the inn where Merry and Pippin were -once again- on the table, engaged in what looked like some wild stomping-hopping-shaking thing of a dance, accompanied by a loud song of their own creation. The quartet watched the silly state of the duo for a while, all feeling strangely relieved by it. In a world where everything had changed, this was the relief for something that had remained. 

"Would you gentlemen like something else?" came a female voice suddenly and they turned to find Rosie by the table, her hands entwined in front of her, her fingers nervously fidgeting with her apron. Legolas kept himself from smiling as he observed a blush very similar to Sam's crawling up her neck and slowly fanning out her face. To hide his amusement further, he assumed his blank elven face as Gandalf spoke.

"How about your company, Rosie?"

She smiled a shy smile. "My company is no match for heroes like you," she said a moment later. Sam was staring fixed onto the wooden table and she seemed to be obsessed about ridding her apron of an invisible stain. 

"It is true that we are all humbled in the presence of Sam and Frodo," Legolas replied with utter gentleness and threw the dwarf -who was about to object- a warning look, "But we have come to realize that hobbits do not care much for greatness. That is an admirable thing. Join us, my lady."

"I would love to…" she locked eyes with him for a moment and her curiosity and admiration for his kind was evident in them, but his expression did not give away his observation. "…but…I must return to the bar. Perhaps later."

"Indeed," said Legolas, bowing his head slightly. 

"Are you well, lad?" rumbled Gimli and everyone followed his eyes to an abashed Sam who shifted on his feet with unease before he managed to choke out, "Of course!"

"You don't look well. You're all flushed and all!"

The Prince thanked his elven control for not breaking into a sly grin with that. "Yes, yes!" mused Gandalf, biting on the stem of his pipe and giving the hobbit an overall look with narrowed eyes, "My dear Sam! Maybe we should take you home."

"I am fine, Gandalf Sir!" he stammered, flushing further at Rosie's observation. 

"Are you sure, Master Gamgee?" she said finally and he stilled all motion, staring at her with a mixture of fear and excitement. 

"I…yes," he whispered and at that moment, he really DID look ill – so dreadful was his excitement. 

She was not convinced of course and prodded on. "Maybe it's these close quarters. Would you want to step out a little?" 

Sam stared at her, agape and she looked back, unsure how to proceed. It went on for quite some time before Gandalf dared a rumble of an intervention. "You might be right, Rosie. Sam here obviously does not mean to tire you. But if you have a few minutes to spare…"

He trailed his voice, rose his eyebrows and waited for her reply. Which followed with another wave of pink on her cheeks. "Of course! Please, Master Gamgee…please allow me to take you outside a little!"

The hobbit swallowed to that, then with a mighty inhale pushed up his chin and nodded. Everyone at the table watched their shy and clumsy leave-taking and heard only of Sam's insistence for Rosie to call him by his name before they exited into the night. 

A satisfied silence set on the table. Despite the shrill song of Merry and Pippin that continued in the background. 

"Were it that I had the option of trading all my worthy deeds for a look like hers!" sighed Gimli finally and his sincere and sad manner surprised Legolas. Though he thought to know the dwarf by heart, Gimli always found a way of surprising him.

"Alas! Look at the lot of us!" mused Gandalf, absent-mindedly gazing at the door again. "Sitting here in our own solitary misery! Fools we are!"

"You can say that again," mumbled Gimli, inspecting his empty mug with distaste. 

"Well…does saving Middle Earth count for something?" smiled Frodo, biting down a chuckle. 

"Saving Middle Earth!" groaned the dwarf and waved his arms in frustration. "That is easy! Try finding true love, my little hobbit friend!" Frodo only shrugged with amusement in defense. Gimli then turned to the elf sitting in silence beside him. "What say you, elf?!"

Legolas looked down at him with amazement. "About what?"

"About love of course! You elves gloat much about it!"

The Prince resisted the urge to object and say that elves would not gloat in this matter or another. Instead he sighed and throwing a long glance at the two hobbits still torturing the surface of the table, said leisurely, "It is a mighty subject. I have nothing worthy to say."

"Hah!" thundered Gimli. "As always!" 

"I hope to be blessed with it some day, of course," continued Legolas, unaffected by his rude interruption. 

"Is that so?" chuckled Gimli slyly, his eyes sparkling with a devious glitter. "I would like to see that, Legolas!"

"See what?" was the lofty and cool question. 

Gimli showed his large teeth, cackling with amused laughter. "The woman who will tame you, of course!"

"My dear friend," exhaled the elf as both Gandalf and Frodo threw each other amused glances at their usual banter. "I'm afraid you confuse love with other sentiments. Love is gentle. And kind. And supportive. It is tender and-…"

"Nonsense!" Legolas looked down at the mischievous expression of his friend. "I predict…" the dwarf continued in a serpentine manner, obviously enjoying himself immensely, "…that yours will rob you off your wits! Which you don't seem to have much of, to begin with." The Prince only inhaled in annoyance, but got no chance to respond. "She will throw you around like a sack! Hah! Shake you to your senses! Out of the boiling water, into the cool stream, Legolas! By the Valar, you will CRACK like an old vase!" A loud rumble of laughter followed and was strong enough to still even Merry and Pippin and make heads turn their way. 

"Do you speak from experience, friend?" was the only statement Legolas found to say in his irritation. That served to stick some uneasiness into his expression and even though it was only temporary, Legolas loved the expression of distaste that crossed Gimli's face. "Is that the reason for your….cracked….appearance?" he mused on while Gandalf could not hold it in any longer and barked with laughter, pulling Frodo along. 

"You'll see!" Gimli shouted over the laughter of the trio when the Prince added his beautiful melody of joy to it. "You'll see! I hope she'll teach you manners too, while she is at it, Legolas!" he yelled and banged his empty mug on the table. Then banged it some more with frustration as everyone kept laughing, not feeling threatened by his fiery anger at all…

'And tamed me she has, indeed,' he thought as he sat in the cafe, the day melting into twilight. 'Your wish has come true, Gimli! She has done all that. And more.' His right hand was on the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed. He was a strong contrast to the people around him with his fair skin and his silver blonde hair. He was more of a contrast in nature and race, but that was hard to tell by his appearance alone. None of these people would ever know, but sitting amongst them was a god. A man who had ruled their world for years, manipulating it, pushing it, urging it to this or that direction. No king, emperor or leader of the past had ever come to posses his powers. He was mightier than all of them in his craft and status. And...victim to the tormenting longing for a simple woman. 

He sighed and dropped his hand, swallowing softly. His eyes did a round and on some level he noticed the curious and apprehensive looks that he always received in public. Though not conscious of his identity, most people still felt in slight awe and intimidation of him - due to what is known as 'charisma' and 'presence'. And, of course, due to his physical attraction that exceeded any mortal man's easily. 

He sighed and entwined his fingers on his chest, leaning slightly back in his chair. For someone of his status and age, his current situation was more than embarrassing. Not because he was foolishly in love. Not because he was on the track of a mortal woman. Not because he was devastated and lost because of the lack of a simple touch from her for two days now. Not because the idea of her being with another man -one whom he simply knew would pursue his interest in her, sooner or later- struck such fury and jealousy in him, that it set his entire being on fire. 

But because he, more than any other, should have known that cause and effect is the greatest natural law there was to life. 

Because he had forgotten that the past haunts you no matter where you run and that it never lets go until the balance is paid in total. 

Because he had ignored the fact that all great mistakes were due to the reign of sentiments replacing the reign of reason. 

In appearance Irulan was, no doubt, very much like other women. In fact, though she was beyond beautiful to the elf, any outside observer would have seen that she was not a perfected sample of her gender. But underneath the same skin, lay a different spirit. How foolish was it for someone of his experience and for someone who had actually spent many years with Estel himself to forget that Irulan never was and never would be like any woman he'd had an affair with, before! 

But he HAD forgotten. Even though that was what had made him fall in love with her in the first place, he had forgotten her heart and her spirit. She was not interested in his riches. Neither was she in awe of his power. His looks served him no advantage. And she was not in deep adoration of his kind. All his attributes that had made every woman bend to his will throughout his long life, held no importance when it came to Irulan. If she had fallen in love with any of these men right here in this cafe instead of Legolas -and his eyes did a round on the present (and not too impressive, one must add) company- Irulan would not have hesitated in the slightest to be with one of them instead of choosing him. No matter what he offered in return. 

And he had treated a woman of that nature like he would treat any other woman. He had courted her, overwhelmed her and won her. Perhaps the fact that he had never encountered a woman like Irulan before could be an excuse for his actions in the beginning. But what about the time she had wanted time and space? Could he actually deny that his excuse of Sharing was the sole and sincere reason? No...Legolas was too old to lie to himself. The truth was, he wanted Irulan with a passion that was frightening in its intensity. He wanted her so much, he was ready to walk over anything and everyone to still that need. Countless times he had scolded humans for acting on such basis and especially the way he had. And yet, now that he had tasted the flame of need to such extend, he knew that he was not spared from foolishness in the face of it. 

He wanted Irulan. Everything else was irrelevant. It should matter what SHE wanted, should it not? More than his needs, it should matter what SHE needed. And if her road was somewhere else and with another, true love would demand him to let go and be happy for her, no? 

Those were all arguments of his reason. His heart cared for none of them. His heart wanted her, period. He was ready to become anything and anyone for that purpose. She could just take him, twist him, change him, play with him or command him. Legolas was not sure how far his nature and his character was willing to bend under such whim, but he was more than ready to do his best to satisfy her. If only she would be with him! 

His blue eyes moved up and inspected the first stars that bloomed in the darkening sky. Another night was setting in and again it would be a night without her. A sharp pain issued in him with that thought. After all was said and done, the problem that was lying in blood and gore on the operation table was evident: Both Legolas and Irulan were warriors. Their tactics were different, their strengths on different ends. But their will and their skill were simply equal. He could not dominate her and she could not evade him. They were locked in a deathgrip, each unable to break away from who they were, and each unable to continue in this manner. Why oh why, were they chosen for each other, when they were so different and so incompatible? 

Any woman would bow before him and would she not end up being happier for it? Would she not live in glorious bliss and wealth until her last days, forever flattered, pampered, spoiled, showered in surprises? Yes, any woman he knew how to make happy. But not Irulan. And any man would bow before Irulan, would he not? And would she not support him, care for him, mother him till the end of his days? Yes...any man. But not Legolas. 

He sighed again and stood up, leaving a stack of bills on the table. He strode away then, his hands in the pockets of his jacket, his face unreadable. Another day was setting and at the end of it, one thing alone remained: He wanted Irulan. And he knew where to find her. 

***


	24. Full Circle

MY DEAR READERS

PLEASE TAKE THE TIME AND READ THE NOTE BELOW. 

I don't like to make explanations – it seems too ready-served to me. I like the story to speak for itself. But the frustration level of some mails made me wonder if I am really not capable of transmitting some things straight. Therefore, I urge you to read the rather long note below and I hope that it will clear out all misunderstanding. I promise there will be no further notes until the end of the story – which has only two more chapters to go, now.

Dear Marianne, of course not all French are like that! Are you crazy, woman? That character was inspired by one of my French friends and she is EXACTLY like that. And I always found that admirable and eccentric. It does not speak for a whole people and I would much rather that my praises of your beautiful country and your culture had remained in your mind than such an unworthy detail. Don't take me that serious. I am really nowhere that important. 

As to everyone else who finds Irulan's behavior hard to understand: One, she is not Wonderwoman, so you must forgive her. Two, she is not running from her mistakes. I think I made it obvious that Legolas would NEVER give her space and time – he is too obsessed with her. And I also made it clear that she had no intentions of becoming his slave. She walked away from him and only went to Baeron because he was her friend. If she had known about Bentanta, she wouldn't have. Even now she is not running because she is a coward. Baeron will not let her go and she is afraid of their confrontation because she knows that either one will be hurt. So she is running to prevent or at least delay that. Yes, Legolas tells her to stay put. But if you read it again, he says "Alone". Even if he hadn't said so, what makes you think that Baeron would simply stand aside and watch Legolas take her back? I think she does exactly what I would do. 

I think the major mistake we tend to make –and it is very good that we make it, because Irulan makes the very same mistake and I WANTED it to be that way- is to misread elves. They are not merely passionate men. Not at all. They are not MEN at all. They are something completely alien. We misread, misunderstand and underestimate the things that they are capable of. Their love comes with a price and it's not a cheap one. 

Another VERY grave mistake – at least I think so: If we could chose the one we will love, the world would be such a better place! In other words, there is no such thing as "believable pairing". We fall for people that are usually not good for us but the laws of the universe don't revolve around our ideas. 

If you think that Legolas has a choice in this matter, you haven't understood the story at all. If you think that Irulan runs out of her selfishness and not to save a duel between these frantic men, again, you haven't understood the story at all. If you think that Irulan is a mere weakling and there's nothing good and mature and worthy about her...I must repeat my statement. And if you think that we always act wise, rational, logical and calm, well...all I can say is "What planet are you from?" I would tell you to re-read the whole thing, but I don't think it's THAT good, so spare yourself the effort.

I hope that it is clearer now. For anyone who thinks this unlikely, I have only one thing to say: She just IS that way. You don't understand her – well I myself don't understand the motivation and actions of half the people around me and frankly most of the time their choices seem foolish. But who can say that I would be able to act wiser if I were in their shoes? I am not ignorant enough to claim I would. 

One thing I'm trying to stress in this story is the fact that no one is black and white. No one. We can be strong and have moments or phases of weakness. We can be unrelenting and proud and then one day something unthinkable might strip us off our pride and bend us like bamboo. We can be kind and gentle and before you know it, something so drastic might happen –for instance, someone very dear to us might get hurt- and we can become full with spite and rather ruthless. Does that mean that we are weak, bendable and ruthless? No. It means that we are shades of grey. Always and all of us. 

And last but not least – in no way was this directed to a particular person. Neither is it some form of angry reply. Not at all. I am glad that people even think about what I wrote and take the time to write back. It is an honor to be the receiver of these mails. 

Thank you for reading this far and now, on to the story!

Love,

Darma Druid

***

Her time with Baeron was far different from the days she had spent with Legolas. And it made her wonder why she did not feel for him instead of the other elf. For he seemed much more...right for her. Unlike Legolas, Baeron had not locked himself away from humanity or the age. Neither had he grown bored and bitter. Any creature that had lived so long and seen so much was expected to be difficult to stimulate, true. Baeron was not different. However, he had an enthusiasm, almost a childish naivety to him that had not dulled with the boredom of the long life he was blessed with. 

They reached the southern tip of Spain and entered Africa through customs. The Circle would know this in a matter of minutes, but once entered, Africa was far more chaotic and intricate than Europe and she knew that it would be harder for them to be located here. Irulan had always dreamt of going to Africa and despite the current status of things, she was excited that her dream had come true. They rode through the dry but nevertheless heated climate and mostly used public transportation instead of buying a car as Legolas preferred to do. She did not call him again, thinking that the abstinence was better and would help her to overcome her longing for him if they did not speak. But the ache for Legolas remained in her, refusing to disappear. She had had relationships end before and the sensation was not entirely foreign. But the degree of it was incredible. 

Baeron did his best to keep her mind off her anguish and often he did so by telling her of his life. He had an incredible sense of humor and a taste for adventure and Irulan was easy prey to those. His advances did not lessen, however, and it was harder to push him away when he was simply adorable. Persistently he would draw her in for a passionate kiss when she least expected it and with the same persistence she would push him away afterwards, trying hard to be angry but only getting to the point of annoyed at his childish grin and compliments that followed. 

Three days after they had set foot on Africa they passed the border of Morocco and just a few hours after that, the duo stood on a deserted beach in Tunisia. The season was late and neither man nor beast was in sight as the world seemed deserted and timeless while Baeron and Irulan walked with naked feet on the perfectly white sand. 

The more she spent time with Baeron, the more she felt confident to ask things that would shame her before. So it was only natural that the matter of Bentanta, who had been mentioned very briefly in the cab that had taken them to the train station in Madrid the last time, resurfaced once more. 

"She...committed suicide?" was her cautious question when the elf did not try to close the subject. 

"Aye," sighed Baeron, looking towards the sparkling blue water. 

Irulan waited for him to continue. But he did not and remained in some elven trance. "To...save herself the torture?" she prodded further. 

His hazel eyes that had a definite green to them this day found hers. He looked at her a long moment before he spoke. "No. To save us."

She remained standing as her shirt ruffled in the breeze like a white flag. Unsure what to do and feeling awkward, Irulan placed her hands into the pockets of her jeans and wiped away some stray hairs from her eyes. Baeron sighed and crouched down, grasping a fistful of sand and slowly raising his hand to let it glide like a little stream into the wind that blew it away immediately. "She said that she would rather die than see either of us come to harm. You see..." his narrowed eyes found hers again, "...she was very young, Bentanta. But age has nothing to do with spirit. We could not stop and well...she...made us."

Irulan sighed and looked into the ocean and neither spoke for a while. "I stole her body from her royal tomb," he continued and she blinked with surprise, then looked down at him once more. He was drawing figures onto the sand, seemingly distracted. "Lord Legolas helped me in that. We buried her in my own work for her."

He stood up and walked up to her, grasping her hand. Irulan swallowed and cast her gaze down as he walked, pulling her along the shore. She licked her lips and felt the salt on them as a strange tranquility settled on her spirit. Similar to what she had felt while she was driving towards Vienna with Legolas. It was the overwhelming calmness of the place and the distance of it from all the things that stressed her. The idea of Legolas was not a welcome one so she tried to push it away and thankfully Baeron continued. "I made a tomb for her. It took me over a decade and I spent a fortune for it, but…it was far more worthy of her. Me and Legolas placed her there." He halted a moment, then added: "I never built anything after that."

"Where is it?" 

"In Egypt. Close to Giza. I had an estate there. Still have, of course. A large parcel of land above which is nothing but rocky hills and a mansion now. Underneath, she lies. In eternal peace, I hope," he finished quietly. 

"Will you show it to me?" Irulan whispered. The demand woke both shame and yet a deep longing in her. She wanted to see the tomb, though her mind told her that the woman who had shared her fate was long gone from this world.

Baeron stopped then and pulled her to a halt as well. She waited as the ocean licked her feet and the wind tore at her shirt. Both her hands were in his and a sadness that looked very unfitting to his usual nature came over him. Irulan remained silent as he pulled up each to kiss her palms. "I have never shared it with any other than Legolas," he said, a long moment later. Irulan, certain that she had demanded something very unbefitting, was about to take back her request when he continued: "But it will be an honor to share it with you." She stilled, both surprised and uneasy and his fingers touched her temple, then glided down her cheek with the usual tenderness. "It holds great importance to me. As do you, King-daughter."

A smile broke on her lips and the aura of friendship engulfed her once more. Yes, the Sharing had stitched them together in a way that was beyond their control. But even if they had never shared, she knew now that they would have become the best of friends. Against all odds. Against anyone else. "The honor is mine, Baeron," was her late and slow reply. 

He smiled brighter and kissed her palm once more before he squinted and looked to the direction they had come from. "How long do you think they will last?" he said suddenly, pointing to the tracks of their feet with his head. 

She glanced at the signs of their passage, already almost completely melted away under the assault of the seawater. "Not much longer."

He nodded as if having found the answer to some important question. "Soon no one will know we ever passed here. No one will know of what we spoke of. Of how my heart wept with the recollection as it has done countless times before. Of how your eyes look under the African sun..." He trailed off, looking into the ocean. "Neither will they know how pleasant the warmth was this day. Or the color of your shirt." His fingers glided over it momentarily before he found her hand again, a wry smile on his lips. "No one will think of the past that has led us to this moment. And no one will know where we went off from here. Is that not so?" Irulan, feeling more dumbfounded than anything else, only nodded. He cocked his head, gazing down at her in curiosity. "It will be as if we never existed, no? Like a Tolkien tale - it will be an illusion and a story written on paper."

"And yet, it HAS existed," she said, feeling the need to speak. "It was real. It IS real."

He nodded and looked down at their hands, applying a gentle caress on hers. "No one will know. No one but you and me. And perhaps we, too, will forget in time. This is frightening to me - this frailty of it. Everything that is so strong and important and grave this moment, is a puff of air a day, a year or a decade from now."

She sighed then. "I think...we will always remember. I think our minds may forget, but our spirits will carry this moment with them on their long journey. And I think..." she halted, biting her lower lip, "...I think if we meet again…No! WHEN we meet again, in another life and in other forms, we will remember."

Baeron grinned and cocked his head to take a better look at her. Irulan, who had naturally grown used to the beauty of elves as she spent more and more time with them and who was tempted to take it for granted every now and then, was reminded of it once more, this moment. His sand colored hair with natural blonde highlights was under the torment of the breeze and his skin had gained a slight glow to its normal color. "Will we?" he said playfully, his perfect white teeth shimmering in the bright daylight. "Perhaps we will pass each other and never know. Perhaps we will speak and feel nothing."

She joined his grin. A moment later she chuckled, shaking her head. "No. I know that we will remember. Our spirits will. I know that next time we meet, a warmth and liking will wake in me." She cocked her head, too, an amused and sly smile on her lips as she gazed up at him, her eyes narrowing. "I won't know why. I won't know how. But I will feel a closeness and trust for you that I will find ridiculous for a first glimpse. Maybe -if I will be anything like I am today- I will try to suppress it. To shake it off. But..." Baeron inhaled and kissed her palms again, listening with rapt attention. The sentiment of deep friendship grew even further and bloomed fully between them. Irulan had had many friends. And she had shared with some much more than what she had shared with this man. Yet at this moment she felt as if none could compare to her relationship with him. "...it will prevail. This day is not lost, Baeron. I will carry it always. As will you."

He nodded very slowly and leaned in for a tender kiss on her lips. The act of kissing still made her uneasy, and each time an alarm went off in her, reminding her that no matter how strongly she was denying it by running from him now, she was still a part of Legolas and he was a part of her. Against that, strangely enough, kissing Baeron had not the spark that kissing Legolas did. With Legolas she was kissing a lover and her body exploded with the act alone. With Baeron...it was gentler. It was an act of sincerity and sharing the moment. It was an expression of support and deep ties. And he had said that he would not go further, so she knew that he would keep his word no matter what. 

"Perhaps we have met before, then?" he said loftily, regaining his mischievous spirit. "For the moment I saw you, I felt...well...I felt that you deserved me."

"Is that so?" she laughed as he continued to walk and she walked with him, their hands in a gentle grasp. 

"Hmmm-hmmm," he said, nodding with mock seriousness. "It is not every day that I come across a woman who is given the honor. Besides," he added, scratching his chin again in a very unelf-like manner, "you, too, must have sensed our common past."

"Ah," she sighed in a princess-like manner, "How can I ever deny it!? The day you walked up to us I knew that I had fallen helplessly in love."

"Tsk tsk tsk," came his soft scolding, with a sidelong glance, "I should have known by the way your eyes undressed me, Irulan!"

She gasped -this time with real shock- and retrieved her hand to hit his shoulder. Unfortunate for her the elf was too fast and evaded it easily, a perfect grin on his face. "Are you sure you are Kingskin? I mean...that was rather clumsy."

Irulan pursed her lips and ducked to gather a good amount of wet sand into her hands. When she looked up she had the expression of a five year old and Baeron stood two steps away, his arms crossed on his chest, his stance leisure and his beautiful eyebrows showing his mock surprise. "Irulan," he began, his lips gaining a sly smile once more, "you will regret that."

"No, I won't!" she said and threw the sand at him. He was only two steps away and there was no way in the world she would miss. Or rather....there shouldn't be. Because to her utter bafflement, she DID miss. A moment later the elf was further to her right, standing almost in the same fashion. 

"Is that how you treat the love of your life?"

"Yes...this is how my line courts, elf!" she said with mild annoyance and deep joy and swiftly gathered another ball of sand, the ocean water dripping through her fingers. Another swing and to her irritation, another miss. 

"Ah," he sighed, clasping his hands behind him and giving the blue water a good look as she stared at him, agape. "You have won my heart, then! For there is no way I can resist this!"

"Why, you..."

"My turn," he whispered, fixing her instantly with his hazel orbs and she swallowed, taking a step back. That was not a very intelligent move, since they were on a huge beach with nothing but sand and the ocean. Where would she go, anyway?

"Baeron...eh...," she chuckled nervously, taking another step back as he remained, his eyes fixed on her, "...look...I was only courting, you elf!"

"Indeed," he mused, "and I will only answer to your call." His gaze glided over the blue mass once more. "How warm do you think the water is today?" he said with disinterest. 

Irulan gasped immediately and took another three steps back. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare!" His eyebrows rose again and she knew she had made a mistake. "Look...my shirt is white, Baeron..." she tried, eager to talk sense into him. 

"Yes...I noticed," he grinned and took a step towards her. 

She shrieked despite herself and, very unbecoming of an heir of Aragorn, turned around to run away. Silly? Yes. Foolish? Yes. To no end? Definitely. For before she could take the forth step she was hauled onto his shoulder and all her laughing, screaming and kicking did her no good. "Baeron stop! I'll kill you, I swear! I'll get ill! I'll catch pneumonia! I'll die!" He only laughed in reply and strode into the ocean as she struggled with all her might. Another wave licked the shore and cleaned the signs of their struggle moments ago, receding from an untouched beach as elf and woman disappeared amongst the blue waves and the white foam – almost as if they had never existed.

***

The golden cup was banged against the large marble table and the clang rang in the dimly lit room, until it fainted into an echo. Hazel locked into blue and for a long moment no words were spoken. "Lord Legolas," hissed Baeron finally, a very uncommon fire blazing in his eyes, "Ever have I respected you. Loved you. Defended you." Legolas said nothing and Baeron took a deep breath to calm himself to continue. "I would give anything you asked! Anything…but her."

The perfect eyebrows of the Prince rose slightly. "'Give', Baeron?" he said softly before he clasped his hands behind his back and turned to the other man. The red sun of Egypt was bleeding into the sky behind him, flowing around his figure like some astonishing aura. "How can you 'give' something that is not yours to give? Humans are not our possession."

Baeron gritted his teeth. "So I tell myself. But my heart will not listen!" he seethed and swallowed hard. 

Legolas pushed his shoulders back, then turned briefly to the sunset before he took a few steps towards the large terrace that presented the breath-taking view of Egypt. A white linen tunic, fashioned like a loose, simple shirt was revealing his perfect torso that was slightly more bronze with the Egyptian sun. His hair hung longer than ever - almost touching his waist, glimmering like a silver river. It had evoked much admiration and word in the palace. There were many foreigners from distant lands in Egypt in those days and lighter color of hair was -though very rare and therefore always a reason for interest and admiration- not too unusual a sight. But the Prince's silver mane was unique and made Legolas an object of attention wherever he went.

He placed his hands on the stone rim of the balcony and leaned on it, the fine muscles of his back springing forth at that action. Egypt! What terrible, raw, harsh beauty it held! So peculiar and so in its own league! His eyes swept over the distant Nile, the crowd of palm trees that adorned its shores, the great structures of stone reaching to the red heavens and he took it in with the mind of a person who knows that no matter how real and solid it was this day, it was doomed to rot away in time. For nothing escaped the touch of time. Not even elves. "If you know your heart...you must understand hers as well," he said after a very long string of minutes. 

Baeron made no sound. But when he spoke again, his voice denoted that he was standing much closer. "Legolas...I've never asked you of anything. Never. Grant me this and this only, and you can ask anything in return. Ask for decades or centuries of servitude - it is yours! But...do not ask for Bentanta."

The Prince's handsome profile turned to him and his voice betrayed his impatience and slight anger. "I don't ASK for her! And if I would, I would ask HER, Baeron. Not you."

The other elf swallowed and walked to stand beside him and for a long while both gazed into the sandy dune, an incredibly tense atmosphere between them. "You can not speak for her," the Legolas added a long while later, his tone somewhat gentler. "I have respect for your affection, but clearly she does not return it, Baeron."

Baeron pursed his lips into a thin line, the words embedding into his heart like a terrible blade. Maybe because they were true. Sure...Bentanta liked him. Maybe even loved him. But not like Baeron loved her. Never like that. Many, many years later he would realize that Bentanta loved neither of them. That she felt only affection for Baeron and admiration for Legolas. That she loved both, but was not in love with either. For now, though, his mind, distorted with the heat of passion, want and jealousy, was not capable of such deductions. All he knew was that he wanted Bentanta. That he could not walk away from her for any price. Sadly, even at the price of her own unhappiness. 

Legolas, too, would go back to this moment many times and he too would realize that his vision was not its clearest on that day. He loved Bentanta, true. Like a child, she was - gentle, innocent and kind. He liked the childish admiration in her eyes when she looked at him, the little signs of infatuation that he knew from other women, but that looked so much more innocent and precious on her. He liked the way her voice shook when she spoke to him. Or the way her dark skin blushed when he looked at her. He liked the way she listened in utter stillness for hours when he told her of his travels and the rest of the world. 

What mattered was that Bentanta wanted him. Him...not Baeron. She wanted him and he wanted her. What was love, anyway, but a passing, fleeting feeling? The love of mortals was merely a moment in time. A grand, breath-taking plunge into the abyss - that's all. His love for her was nothing of that sort. It was gentle and caring and long-term. At least as long term as he could allow himself to stay before she became suspicious of his never aging looks. And after that...who knew? The world was yet a mystical and magical place and Egypt perhaps more so. Maybe after those years Bentanta would not find it too hard to believe in a spell that had granted him ever-lasting youth? Maybe she would even grow into a wise and mature woman who would find the idea of another species walking this planet not too unbelievable...Legolas sighed and said nothing. The elves watched as red color vanished into blue, then into violet and as distant sounds of music and drums began to dwindle up to the palace and the stars blotted in the navy sky of Egypt.

"I love her," whispered Baeron finally, his stance still turned to the scenery. "Don't you understand what that means, my Lord?"

The Prince turned to give the man a long look, momentarily detecting a new sentiment and slightly confused by it. He thought that he knew, but only many, many millennia later, when he was sitting with a woman who was nothing like Bentanta on a dark, chilly hill in Germany would he know. That day when his eyes would look over the hills that the Grimm brothers had viewed and stitched into their tales and his lips would taste hers, he would know what Baeron had meant. Not before. Not now. Now love was just a word. And Legolas was a fool. 

"I understand," he said gently and Baeron turned to lock eyes with him. Never had he seen such sadness in those normally playful hazel orbs. "But she chose my company. And she shall have it."

The words sank into Baeron's mind like a bloody, hot tattoo. They sank into his flesh, burning it with such fire, that he would wake many nights, remembering them and crying in his agony. 'She chose my company,' Legolas would say in his head over and over again. And the tattoo would throb with unspeakable pain. Again and again and again. 'She chose my company'. It was only true. He would never forget. And he would remember one day when another woman stood between them. A woman who, unlike Bentanta, would choose HIS company over that of the fabulous, ever-wise, always fantastic Prince Legolas. A woman whom he would come to love deeply and who -though not with the craft and strength of Bentanta- would touch his spirit in an almost similar fashion. 

Millennia would pass over this day. And after both Baeron and Legolas had waded through many eras, decades and centuries; after they had loved and bedded many women; seen much and forgotten nothing, one day they would find themselves in a hauntingly similar triangle. What neither elf knew this day in Egypt was that when the day came, they would suddenly understand each other like they had never done, before. Baeron would understand Legolas' love and affection for Bentanta and his unwillingness to let go, as Legolas would understand Baeron's passion and the impossibility of him ever giving up on the Princess. That understanding however, though creating a deep bond between them, would not prevent them from walking the same path, this time their roles reversed. 

"What could I have done?!" seethed the Prince to himself as the car shook softly with the ride and tried to lull him into a sleep that his body refused. 'I don't understand the Valar! Why do they punish us for things we can not help or avoid?!' he added in silence. He looked out from his window towards the darkness of the night. They were passing through a chaotic crowd of color, fire, fabric, lights, food and souvenirs. 'Should I have stepped back?' he thought, lost in the duels of the past. 'I loved her!'

'Indeed. Then why should Baeron step back now? He loves Irulan, too,' chuckled a nasty voice in his head. The Prince closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Many minutes he wrestled stubbornly with himself before he managed to accept defeat and admit something that had taken millennia for him to admit: 'Yes...I should have stepped back.' Legolas sighed, both disturbed and yet relieved by that conclusion. 'Bentanta would have forgotten me. She would have grown used to him and returned his affection in time. Baeron would have tasted true happiness. And...she would have...she would have lived.' He swallowed softly, his eyes glued to the tumult outside as he sat invisible behind the black glass. 

A terrible, terrible mistake. Too long ago to make amends. Too far in the past to change it. And that was not even the worst part. The worst part was that he remembered his sentiments on that day very clearly. He remembered his foolish, stubborn determinism. His love and wanting for Bentanta. He remembered how his heart had tugged on with persistence - how it had insisted that he should hold on to her, no matter what. And that's how he knew how Baeron was feeling this very moment. 

The further they drove, the more the Past seeped through his shield and sank into his bones and tissues. It burned in his blood and churned in his veins. 'Welcome back,' It said, the voice taunting and impish, 'Welcome, king amongst elves and god amongst men. Don't be hesitant....come in! Come in...we shall speak of love and loss.'

***

The trip to his estate was not incredibly hot, thanks to the season, and yet overly dry. Irulan remained silent and watched the scenery, trying to imagine it as it had been thousands of years ago. She was not certain if it was better to cheer Baeron's spirit at this time or leave him alone. She decided that he needed his quiet and chose the latter. 

It was afternoon and the drive with the rented car took about two hours. Baeron's estate was a desolated piece of land, buried amongst rocky hills in the open plains. As he had said, only a seemingly very unused mansion stood on it. "I haven't been here for a very, very long time, Irulan," he said, speaking for the first time. "And I mean that in elven standards," he grinned, locking eyes with her. 

Irulan gazed ahead, at the sole structure that they were approaching and that seemed to stand on the slope of a little mountain of bare rocks. The winding road took them ever up. For one moment and one moment only she remembered the ascent to the hill of Cerin Amroth with Arwen. Though only the fraction of a second, it was enough to make her uneasy and she hastily spoke to break the atmosphere. "How come no one tried to break in for theft all this time?"

"I have people coming in every now and then. They clean it. Keep it functional. Protect it." He squinted as the late afternoon sun of Egypt flashed through his eyes. "But...you will see yourself. The house is of no importance and carries nothing of value. They would find nothing there. And…no one is allowed to dig for anything further. It belongs to me, after all." He did not say it out loud but he had avoided this place for centuries now. Mainly because it brought back too many memories. As it did this very moment.

The drive ended in front of the mansion. Baeron stepped out, leaving the car keys and everything else and Irulan followed his lead, taking only the bag that held the flash lamps which Baeron had acquired in the city. There was no one here to steal the car or their belongings. She walked over to his side, then remained still, looking over the structure. It looked nothing more than an old house, three of its walls in the open, the forth wall embedded into the huge rocks of the mountain. Out of time. Out of style. The aura that usually surrounded elven settlements was not here. Most probably because Baeron had spent very little time in it. Still, she sensed a river of sorrow and torment wash over her. Her gaze wandered to the elf, who stood in the bright daylight, his eyes squinted, his face unreadable as he watched the structure with a pose one would watch an enemy. 

Many minutes they stood in front of the old building as a warm breeze swirled and danced the sand back and forth on the plains below and glided over the rocks with a hiss, encircling them almost like a serpent. Perhaps the past was such a serpent – poisonous, dangerous, sneaky, unforeseeable. Or perhaps it was just a bundle of memories and one's own weakness to face it made it so lethal. 

Irulan almost flinched when Baeron finally touched her hand. She blinked and found him looking down at her, with a tender smile. Her fingers grasped his, seeking a trusted friend in the face of something that was beyond her grasp and he gave her that assurance by shortly squeezing them in return. A strange glaze was in his eyes and a tenseness was emanating from him. She waited for him to lead her in, but he waited on, and so did she. "Life is strange, King-daughter," he said suddenly, his voice calm and low. "Both beginning and end can co-exist in one place."

Irulan waited on, her eyes not leaving his as her mind spun to understand his odd words and even his stranger attitude. Baeron seemed almost distant and...alien. The reason bloomed in her mind slowly, opening itself to her awe – for the first time he seemed an elf, instead of the human that she was so tempted to take him for. Her mind whirled but found nothing to hold on to when she finally spoke, her own words foreign to her. "Do you think that there is a purpose to life?"

He took a deep breath and returned his gaze to the mansion. A minute passed before his voice chimed once more. "Aye. Most certainly. But I also believe that to know it would not make a difference to us minions." He sighed suddenly. "I believe that our battles are meaningless. We conquer one day, are conquered the next. We breathe victory, only to taste defeat. We charge right before we are forced to fall back..." His voice trailed off as another warm gust fanned their faces. "I am tired of this war." He gazed back down at her confused and worried face, smiling once again. "Let us set the battlements on fire."

A smile of surprise bloomed on her face, her eyes sparkling with awe and amazement. Baeron began to walk then and she followed. The past slithered further. Head reached tail. And the circle was complete. 

***

Irulan followed him through the dilapidated rooms of the building. It stood in perfect silence and stillness. Time was slow and heavy here. It seemed to have left behind a trail – almost like the trail of a snail. As if a part of it had remained and lingered on, having gained presence in these rooms. Baeron was right – the house was nothing fancy. It stood, gaping like an open mouth, eager to speak, but having lost the skill to do so. 

They walked on, their eyes scanning the surroundings. The walls were cracked in several places, due to several earthquakes this region had witnessed over the years. True enough, it seemed to have been cleaned and re-ordered a few times. But the job itself was hasty and dismissive and explained the unkempt look of the dwelling. 

The elf seemed very uninterested in the house itself. He walked on, silent but with determination through rooms, finally coming in front of a wall. It held nothing special about it and would have been absolutely overlooked by any other. But the architect knew which stones to move and which to turn and he did so, his fingers not having repeated the task for millennia, but remembering the routine easily enough. 

Nothing happened. 

A moment passed and Irulan, who thought that the wall would move aside or at least reveal some sort of a secret passage, was startled when Baeron walked out of the room, pulling her along. She followed once more and they ended up at another wall – this one belonged to a ruined kitchen. He pressed other stones and they clicked gently, as if they had been made yesterday, not centuries ago. 

This time it was no surprise when nothing happened. For the third time they walked out and for the third time the procedure was repeated on another wall. "This has to be done in a precise order," he said, a frown on his face while the stones clicked. "You can press these stones all you want and if it's not in the certain order, it will never open."

She just stared at him, agape and was about to ask why on earth Baeron had stopped being an architect since he was such a damn genius, when a rumble shook the house and the dust on the walls began to fall to the floor in lazy circles. Unconsciously her other hand closed on their grasp as she froze, observing the walls protesting with a tremble. It was only a matter of minutes, but to Irulan it seemed much longer and only when the silence stretched on undisturbed did she dare to glance up to the elf who stood with a frown on his handsome visage. "It has been longer than I suspected," he murmured, his hazel eyes wandering over the cracks on the walls. "But...it HAS opened," was his addition with a merrier tone. "Come, Irulan."

They walked back through several rooms and ended up at an entrance she could not recall seeing before. Baeron guided her through it. A darkness fell on them and her feet found soft sand. Irulan looked up in wonder and realized that they were in a passage that was carved into the rocks of the mountain against which the mansion was leaning. Again, many things had obviously moved around and destroyed the masterwork that Baeron had made here. For in its originality, an intricate system had been sending down the sunlight to this passage. It had been undetectable to anyone who would climb around on the slope, for the light had been arranged to stream in through minor cracks and crevices, angled so that no vast empty space could be suspected underneath them or fit through them. 

Unfortunately many of those had moved in time and collapsed closer, cutting off the light. Many...but not all. The dim alley spread before her and was enough to make her heart beat wildly with excitement. She looked down, her eyes adjusting to the lack of light and seeing the white sand underneath her soles. No feet had touched this sand in millennia! 

Baeron gave her a few moments to adjust, then walked on. Irulan felt him distant, the elven cloak that hid his emotions thicker than ever. No sentiments streamed out from him and no expression was there to read. The mountain sighed with a slight rumble, then settled completely and silence began. 

They walked further and further, the dimness gaining intensity, then lightening up. The passage was narrow for a moment, then suddenly very large and it looked almost like the coincidental work of nature, instead of a person. She did not realize it at first as coarse bricks began to replace the large boulders. Bricks that formed an uneven wall, broken in like a toothless grin at places. "Is this...how it's supposed to look?" was her uneasy question, merely asked for the sake of breaking the intense stillness. 

"No. It is in worse shape than I thought," murmured Baeron, giving the holes in the brittle wall a passing gaze. "Do not touch the walls. They seem brittle and they lean on nothing but air. If they give in, you might fall a great distance to the lower layers of the tomb." 

Irulan swallowed, unconsciously inching away from them while they walked on in a slow, cautious pace. "The tomb is here? Around us?" she whispered a while later. It seemed only fitting to whisper here, in this stagnant and close place where memories ruled – although there was no one to hear. 

"It is carved into the mountain. Like a pyramid, Irulan – but under the surface. It is below us and we must descent through a maze of tunnels to reach the heart of it." His fingers glided along the fractured and damaged ruin of the side walls. "I see that boulders have moved and much has changed. Our feet step on a solid outcrop now, but there may be many empty pockets along the side. Stay close to me."

He did not have to say that again! Irulan squeezed his hand harder and remained as close as she could be. They reached the end of the tunnel and the elf released her hand. She stood still, gazing at the entrance that led into darkness while he walked on until he reached the gaping hole and looked into it. She shifted on her feet, not daring to speak. The idea of the flashlights in her backpack blinked in her mind, but she dared not mention it. "The tomb is below us...," he said a long moment later, his elven perception picking out the spiraling and partly broken stairs that led into fathomable darkness. "...but...maybe it's not safe any longer, Irulan," he said finally, and she looked up in surprise as he locked eyes with her. His hazel eyes shimmered in the dim light and his face was blank as he stood at the threshold, looking back at her. A moment passed between them before he sighed and turned his back to her once more, inspecting the darkness that lay beyond the door. 

She squinted her eyes and looked at the entrance once more. Damn right this was not safe! Not to mention, VERY scary. After all, she was standing at the entrance of a tomb. With a DEAD person inside! She swallowed softly and suppressed the shiver. No matter what...they had come this far. And this was obviously something that Baeron needed to confront. She wanted to be with him when it happened. As a friend. As the support he had been to her. 

She looked back up at him and she was about to say that they should go ahead and descend anyway, when suddenly his elven shield that hid his emotions from her disappeared with unexpected speed and a sense of alarm hit her in the face. So surprising and overwhelming it was, that she remained agape, her eyes widening slowly as she could not look away from his back. Baeron tensed like a bowstring, not moving a muscle and she could not help an urgent whisper falling from her lips. "What is it?!" 

He did not speak, only turned around to give her a long, plain look. Her discomfort grew further at that and Irulan was about to repeat her question when suddenly another voice spoke up. "You have arrived at last." She froze into complete immobility at that. HIS voice! Of all people, HIS voice! She swallowed, amazed that she actually managed to do so, and tried to breathe. Her eyes met Baeron's and his face was as blank and expressionless as white paper. Very slowly she managed to turn around and met the blue eyes.

As their gazes connected, something clicked in her. It was that dreadful, regrettable need. That iron shackle that bound her to him. A too long moment passed between them as he stood in the direction they had come from and she faced him completely, the sizzling shock of the occasion running through her, shaking her figure. "Irulan," he said gently and she was glad that he spoke, for she doubted that she had the power to do so at the moment. His looks swiftly glided over her and back up, finding her orbs again. He smiled in the most tender fashion and Irulan felt a slow and completely irrational shame color her cheeks. And a deep need to go and embrace him. She tilted forward and took half a step, then immediately stopped herself. A surprise as well as fear washed over her when she realized her own action. Legolas, too, seemed to have realized it, for he smiled broader and held out his hand, silently asking her to complete the action. 

She remained completely at a loss of her wits, very unsure what to do. "We meet again, Lord Legolas," Baeron said from behind her at that very moment and broke the spell. "And here of all places," was the partly bitter, partly amused addition. The Prince's eyes darted over her shoulder to the other elf then, and she exhaled slowly in relief as his heavy gaze left her. An incredible tension built between the two men and Irulan felt very tempted to just take off and run. "I knew you would come," Baeron concluded slowly. 

"As did I," growled Legolas. 

"Irulan, come to me," Baeron said from her right, as gently as Legolas had spoken to her. 

"Leave her out of this! This is between you and me," was the other elf's reply as their eyes did not leave each other for a single moment. 

"She is the reason why you came. Not me," Baeron replied and turned to lock eyes with her. "Come, Irulan."

She swallowed and looked at his offered hand. This time she took a step towards him and an intervention from her left froze her into immobility. "Don't move, Irulan!" The seething command in his tone sent chills down her spine. She obeyed instantly and her eyes remained locked to Baeron. She was aware that she had a pleading look on her face and it was enough to make the elf move towards her. "If you touch her, I will kill you this moment, Baeron!" came his voice then and though not with fear, the Scout froze as well. 

"Legolas," she breathed finally with a shaky voice and managed to turn to him once more. Yes...as she had expected his face was blank as well. And she found that extremely scary. "Please...You two are scaring me!"

His gaze seemed to soften a little, but it could have easily been her own imagination. "I will take you," he began slowly, "and walk out of here. And I will not return, nor look back. For you and you only, Irulan, I will spare him."

She bit her lower lip, thinking that she better take that option or that Baeron was as good as dead when the other elf intervened. "I'm afraid I can not allow you to do that, my Lord," he said calmly. "I will not let her be taken by force or to save another." 

Once again the looks of the elves collided and once again it frightened her even more. "Then we will end this here and today," Legolas said flatly. 

Baeron bowed his head ever so slightly. "If such is our fate...."

"Stop it!" yelled Irulan finally, overly annoyed by this whole thing about "ending" and "fate" and all that crap! She loved each of these men in a strong, but very different fashion and she could never choose amongst them. "Have you forgotten who you are?! We must solve this matter."

"I agree," growled Legolas. "And so we will." He shifted, placing his feet slightly apart to take a relaxed stance. Only to the outer eye it seemed relaxed, of course. Irulan felt the threat emanating from him doubling with that motion. 

"Legolas, no!" she whispered in urgency and walked up to him in haste. He was so surprised by that action that his expression of gravity fell and his concentration shifted to her. Before she could think about it, she was a step away from him and lay her hand on his forearm. A look of wonder and incredible relief fluttered across his features for a moment and he locked his blue gaze to hers, not moving in any other manner. "I will not have you two fight! What foolishness is this?!"

She turned to look at Baeron who stood with his hands clasped behind his back, seemingly relaxed as well, but equally tense. "I told you, Irulan...you must forgive us for this. We cannot share you. And we will not burden you by forcing a choice upon you." His eyes found the steely blue of Legolas, then. "We will not repeat that mistake."

"Oh no, we will not," the Prince growled, his other hand enfolding over hers, but his eyes fixed on Baeron. "WE will make that choice instead."

"Enough!" she yelled and her voice bounced on the old walls of the passage. Both elves gave her a perplexed look. "If you don't stop right this minute, I swear I will walk out of here and never, NEVER see either of you again!" Neither moved, so she continued: "Believe me, I WILL do it!" 

"Walk then," Legolas whispered, his eyes incredibly inhuman. "Walk. It is safer for you. One of us will find you when this is over."

"Go, King-daughter," Baeron said gently from behind her. 

"No! Stop it, I say! I will not go then, and you will have to kill ME first!"

"We will solve this in the old way," said Legolas, completely ignoring her and fixing the other man with the blue flames dancing in his orbs. "The way of the warriors. For no matter what, that is what we remain."

"I agree," was Baeron's slow reply. 

A terrible silence set in on the trio. She glanced from one to the other and back, her harsh panting the only sound that filled the place. 

And then it began. 

In the dim light of the passage, she only made out a blur of figures before they clashed together. Irulan barely found the time to cry out with surprise and hastily step away as a hurricane swept by her. Her eyes were too slow to see the movements, but there was no doubt that this was a fight of frightening intensity and nothing like the one she had seen between two men. For it was accompanied with a fiery aura of incredible anger and threat that sizzled through her like a licking flame. So fluid and baffling and mind-blowing it was, that for a moment she was torn between watching it with awe and wonder, and throwing herself between them. 

The hesitation did not last long. Finally her vocal cords gained independence once more and she heard herself shouting, her voice echoing in the narrow tunnel. "Stop it! STOP!"

No reaction. No answer. Not even the smallest pause. The brutal encounter continued as if no words were spoken. But they DID part a few moments later, when Legolas managed to land a hefty punch on the chest of his opponent and Baeron slammed into a sharp rock, letting out a grunt of pain. The break was not too long and before she could blink the Prince dove in, slamming the other into the rock once more. Baeron managed to grasp his arms and threw him to the side and Legolas landed gracefully on his feet, his blue eyes shining with inhuman fury. He charged again but this time Baeron was prepared and stepped aside, once again locking to him and forcing another chaotic entanglement. 

"STOP I SAY!!" Her voice was close to a shrill this time and it bounced back from the rocks heftily. Yet, it was not enough and the duo continued its dance of fury perfect disinterest. 

Before she knew it, the bag dropped from her hands and her feet moved. Irulan was stunned when she actually grasped an arm, digging her fingers into it. Her mind was empty. She had no idea what she was doing. All she could think of was that she had to stop them. She was thrown off with an ease that would have bothered her if she had the chance to think about it. One moment she was by their side, her fingers digging into flesh, the next she was kneeling on the white sand as a ray of dim sunlight was streaming onto her stupefied face. 

Baeron was thrown away once more, and this time he flew a good distance, landing on his back with a groan. Legolas did not hesitate and strode to him, grasping his shirt and whirling him against another rock. A few bricks fell off at the impact as the Scout tried to pry off the suffocating grasp of his obviously far more skilled opponent. Only an accidental kick in the stomach saved him and he fell to the ground with a thud when Legolas stepped back, then a moment later charged again. 

Neither saw Irulan in the picture as she forced herself between them and neither noticed her frantic battle to pry them apart, shouting their names over and over again. Their ears were deaf. Their eyes blind. Their minds blank. Only after they had clashed into her a distant part of their minds became aware of the happening. And in perfect unison they turned to see her crash into the wall of the tunnel with the effect of the collision. The wall gave in under her weight and a hole like several others that adorned the dilapidated wall opened up behind her as the bricks clattered into the silent darkness below. 

Irulan felt the bricks give under her hands and she knew with instant realization that she would die. Everything slowed down drastically and she saw her fingers slipping off the stone, leaving fine marks on its dusty surface as it crumbled before her eyes and broke away. All the noise ceased. Her heart must have stopped, for strangely the excitement, fear and alarm was gone, too. For a moment she hung in limbo - completely devoid of any emotion and thought. Then her heart made a leap and a wave of electricity traveled through her. She barely found the time to gasp as the darkness came over her and her feet lost the tangible ground. Her body tilted further and further and then the frozen state left her. Before she could blink she was falling in darkness with incredible speed to her certain death. 

Both Legolas and Baeron froze, the same realization hitting them at the same moment as their eyes followed her tilting figure. The fire and flame that had taken hold of their minds parted like a crimson curtain and in that moment of sanity, they understood what that meant. Then the curtain closed again and once more they became creatures of pure instinct. Both bolted towards her, both knowing that neither would make it in time. The other elf gave Legolas a push and the Prince was forced to stagger away with the unexpected shove while Irulan disappeared from view. Baeron did not hesitate even for a single millisecond before he made a graceful dive into the darkness after her. 

***


	25. Let Us Set the Battlements on Fire

Here it is. The last chapter. 

This story ended the moment I began to write it. Therefore, no matter how many mails I received to urge me in that direction, I can change neither the ending, nor the epilogue, which is already written and will follow this one. The epilogue is almost a new chapter in itself and will tie all the loose ends (no, I haven't forgotten anything) and bring a new angle, I hope. Some will like these last two chapters, some won't – I know. Such is the way with everything and it matters little, as long as we SHARE them. 

I want to thank everyone who read this far, everyone who took the time and effort to write, everyone who shared and treasured. The road is never this entertaining when one walks alone. I also want to thank once again Melissa for forcing me to write this story in the first place and remaining ever supportive and tolerant through it, as well as my beta Kris, who put her own work aside to aid mine.

The curtain opens, the last act begins.

We have come this far. Here ends a tale of life. Of greed, loss, regret, past mistakes that won't let go. But also of love, hope, sacrifice, friendship and forgiveness.

_Music Score:               Annie Lenox, Into the West (ROTK OST)_

_                                    Sting, Book of My Life (Sacred Love)_

Darkness. 

So deep and so long that it blocked out the memory of anything else. 

She had no thoughts. No feelings. No perception. There was darkness only and that was all and final. 

It was perfect, really. If she had been capable of thought, Irulan would think it beautiful. Peaceful. Alluring. 

As it was, she felt nothing and only remained in it, like a little pebble resting in the depths of a lake. 

Then it became imperfect. It twisted and stirred and with it, so did she. It became blotchy and torn and jarred and Irulan shifted restlessly, feeling disturbed at that. It crumbled and creaked and cracked and a frown settled on her face as her discomfort grew. The darkness bent further and was pulled and pushed, swishing with agony. Holes were driven into it and deep cuts appeared in its perfect stillness. Irulan shook her head, willing it back to completeness. But it pulsed on, heavy with agony and twisted, twisted, twisted until it was ripped open and it felt like her own heart was split apart. She gasped and released a strangled cry, arching on the ground. Her fingers curled with the pain and her limbs felt detached, not her own anymore. Every heartbeat hurt. Every breath burned. Her body refused to obey and she lay still, tortured by remaining like that alone. 

In reality it was only minutes, but it felt far longer to her as the pain throbbed slower and her body sizzled back into vitality. The ache faded into the background and her brain slowly began a tentative attempt at understanding. She was lying on a hard surface. It was really dark or she had gone blind. She was not alone. 

"Sssshhhhh...it is all right. I am with you," said a voice right then and if she had any strength, Irulan would have jumped with the sudden fear that ran through her. For momentarily she had no idea where she was and how she had gotten there and who this other person could be. A strangled whimper escaped her lips and something soft appeared against her forehead. "It is me, Irulan. You are safe. Relax." The words meant nothing. But she DID recognize her own name and in an unexplainable way, it brought tremendous relief. 

Irulan obeyed the command and let time pass by. The caress on her face continued and she gave in to its spell, allowing her battered senses to dwindle back into position. Her memories came with a lazy, leisure stroll, very much like they would after a very deep episode of dreaming. And so absurd they were that they might have been a dream indeed. If not for the fact that she was hurt and lying on a dusty ground in almost total darkness, Irulan could have fooled herself into believing that she was in the hotel room with Baeron, waking up yet from another nasty dream. 

"Baeron," she said and the cracked whisper was so different from what she expected to come from her lips. 

He grasped her hand then. "You must get up, King-daughter," he said, his voice strained. 

Irulan tried to focus but the pain she was feeling in her ribs was excruciating. She felt his hands on them and hissed with hurt when they glided on the spot. Baeron stopped immediately and grasped her waist, pulling her to sit up closer to him. "Irulan," he said, and it almost sounded like wheezing, "Get up. The tomb will close. Get up...now!"

"I...I can...not," she choked out in reply. The pain was incredible. 

Baeron breathed deeply a couple of times and she used that interval to try to press down the dizziness, her eyes fluttering madly to see. "You MUST," he whispered, suddenly laying his palm against her face. Perhaps that was what made her finally able to open her eyes fully and take a long look at his face. It was not as dark as she thought it would be this far deep and her adjusted gaze found his features in the dim setting because he was so close to her. Her hand flew up to his temple and Irulan watched in amazement the warm dark liquid that stuck to her fingertips when she touched it. 

"Wh-what is this?" she said in alarm, sitting up with haste, and almost cried out when a bolt of pain surged through her. "What happened?" was her strangled addition when she caught her breath again. And then the rest of her memories came to her – like a graceful ballerina, drawing arcs and circles closer and closer as she remained rooted on her spot, dumbfounded. Only her eyes widened with the remembrance. Baeron had been there during their short flight through the dark. She had felt his limbs entangling her and his strong grasp so hard on her, that it had literally hurt. His arms had pressed on her waist, pulling her against his chest and the breath had left her and rendered her unable to scream. And then she remembered her body turning, her brain registering amongst the chaos that she was angled to lie atop him to cushion her fall, right before an incredible darkness had shut off her mind with the ease of shutting off the light switch. 

As incredible as it was, Baeron smiled in return and chose not to answer. The dust swirled some more, like some strange halo around his head. "Get up, Irulan," he said softly and his voice was inhuman...soft and yet demanding. Irulan swallowed, looking at him in alarm. The idea that Baeron was hurt and wounded was a scary one. Even scarier than the fact that they were in a tomb with God knows what else. And it was that idea that made her try again. Again pain fanned through her but this time he was there and completed her movement for her, pulling her up to a standing position as Irulan cried out despite herself. She closed her eyes with the hurt, distantly trying not to bite her tongue. 

A moment passed as Baeron steadied her and swung her arm over his shoulders, his hand holding on to it while the other hand rested on her unharmed ribs. He waited a little and the sound of their heavy breathing was the only one in the darkness. "I cannot see," she whimpered finally, trying to shift on her feet and discovering that it only hurt to do so. 

"I can," he said, his voice even more strained and coming out rather hoarse now. "Walk with me."

Irulan knew that he was in pain. It was evident in his clumsy stance, in his hoarse voice and most certainly in the way he was limping. And if an elf was hurt to this degree, that was not good. Not good at all. She began to cry then, out of sheer fear and worry. She should be strong. The thought of Aragorn came to her, but bounced off the thick armor of her current pain. She was not Aragorn. Nowhere near him. She was a stupid, weak, small woman! And she had caused serious injury to an elf! 

His grasp on her grew somewhat stronger. "Sssshhhh," he soothed, his voice still rasping. She could not stop for the world, but tried to, against all odds. "Sssshhh...everything will be fine."

"I am so sorry," she whispered, breaking into sobs. "So sor-sorry...Baeron."

He halted then and the hand that held her arm let go to lean on a wall that was invisible to her. She felt him looking at her, but did not see that either. "Never be, Irulan," he said gently. Suddenly his fingers were on her cheek and Irulan whimpered, leaning into the touch. "You will be fine, I promise," he said, his voice hoarse again. 

"And you?" she croaked, the fear squeezing her heart with might. 

"So will I," was his late answer and though she saw no cheer in the way it was said, she hung to it with fervent hope. Irulan nodded a moment later, once again in effort to cease the stupid, childish crying. She only managed to turn it into sniffs. That seemed good enough for the elf, who once again bounced off the wall and continued to guide her through the darkness. 

They walked, slowly inching their way through the debris as her eyes grew accustomed to the lack of light. She saw large, bulky shapes...boulders or blocks of stone, pillars...broken, heaved in or cracked into two...lying in ruins. The walls were adorned with the etchings of hieroglyphs, but it was too dark to see the details. Not that she was really interested at the moment. The pain was still there – a dull, red ache, growing no less with each step. Actually it grew more and reached such an overload that she began to feel it less, for the sole fact that her nerves began to numb with the pain-relieving fluid that was pumping through her nervous system. 

Baeron did not speak and no other sound than their sliding steps and their harsh breathing came. There was a stagnant odor in the place and the idea that Irulan was breathing air that was thousands of years old, was rather awkward. And yet she kept her silence, so that she would not be an extra burden on him, now. 

"How deep are we?" she said a long time later, mainly to hear his voice again. 

"Not at its deepest," was his gasp of an answer. "Do not worry. Lord Legolas knows the way. He will come."

Irulan nodded and hung her head as Baeron paused and leaned on another wall, trying to catch his breath. She embraced him gently, afraid beyond reason at this point. Afraid of the dark. Of being in a tomb. Of his condition. His arm came around to embrace her back and he pressed her to himself, stronger than usual. Irulan felt tears building up again, because everything he did just scared her further. She buried her head into his shoulder, grasping his shirt in desperation as Baeron gently stroked her hair with his other hand. "Ssssshhhhh," he said again and she sobbed once more, simply unable to hold it. "It's all right to be afraid."

"Don't you dare leave me!" she cried, her hands trembling as the clutch on his shirt grew. 

Baeron wheezed a laugh, then coughed with the pain of that action. Irulan hastily leaned back, waiting anxiously for it to pass. She could not see his face and therefore remained still as stone, listening with rapt attention. A few moments passed after it died out and she was surprised to feel his lips against hers, a tender kiss blooming between them. She kissed him back in desperation, eager to kill his pain and having no other means to do so and he relented to it, allowing it to grow between them, almost like an anchor that both held on to. 

A faint, distant sound brought them back to reality. It was like stone falling on stone and the soft rumble of an echo. Baeron broke the kiss and she turned to the direction that sound had come from. "He has come," the elf whispered. "We must hurry. Come, Irulan."

She nodded and resumed her former position as he began to guide her through the forest of stone once more, his steps faster. They changed direction and even though there was no source of light, it seemed somewhat lighter in this corridor. She stared around in awe, then up to his face. Now at least she could see his features. And the dark blotch running down his temple. Another was on his side and his shirt seemed to be completely colored with blood. Irulan swallowed and looked ahead again. "Why must we hurry, Baeron?" she said, breathless with the effort of walking against the will of her body that only wanted to lie down and remain. 

"Because the emergency exit will open only once. And will not remain so for long."

Her head turned sharply to him as they hopped on and another deep bang echoed in the silence of the tunnel. "What?! W-why not?"

Baeron took a deep breath and then broke into coughs once more. "Because I designed it that way," he wheezed several moments later. Irulan just stared at his dark face with disbelief and growing panic. He turned to smile down at her, and even with her limited vision and in these grave circumstances, the smile was fabulous. "Partly because the architecture requires it. It is a complicated thing, this tomb, and the opening of the emergency exit is a big strain on the structure." He looked around at the rumble for a moment. "I only hope that it will hold." Irulan just kept looking, now even more alarmed. What the hell did 'not long' mean? Exactly how long would it remain open, damn it? He turned back to her, once again smiling at her silent alarm. "But mostly...because I never thought I would end up using it, Irulan," he said in his usual lofty fashion and even tried to laugh to his statement. Which remained an effort. 

They hopped on for a few more minutes and another, this time much louder sound came. Baeron arrived at a wall and his hands glided along it. Irulan remained behind, leaning into it. She heard the clicking of stone as some of the bricks seemed to give in. Nothing happened other than that. He returned, limping, and found her hand again, then pulled her further. "For the traps. They will not be activated," he said with a raspy voice. 

They walked on and turned to squeeze through another, very narrow tunnel. Irulan ignored her claustrophobia and just walked on, the voice of Baeron betraying his worsening condition. She could not think of anything else. Then another chamber and just when she was beginning to believe that the pain in her ribs was simply too much to endure, Baeron stopped, heaving with effort. "What happened?" she said in alarm, looking up to him. He looked up, too and Irulan followed his gaze to the ceiling. "What happened?" she said again, not liking his silence. 

"Nothing," he said a moment later, but it was not a nice tone and she did not like it a bit. "Now we will wait."

"Why don't we open the exit from here and leave?" 

Baeron pursed his lips and let his gaze sweep over the chaotic cluster of boulders around him. "The exit can be opened from here or from the outside. But it would be useless to open it from here, for we will need Legolas to get out." He sighed and looked up, squinting his eyes as pale dust, freed from the floor by the friction of their steps, swirled gracefully and settled on his features and his hair. "Since it will hold open only for a limited time, it is wise to wait for his arrival."

She joined his inspection of the ceiling and only broke her gaze when Baeron cleared the smaller boulders to sit on a rather flat and raised surface, pulling her to sit beside him. "Will he come from above?"

"He will, Irulan," he said dismissively, gliding his fingers over her face and looking at her with tender passion. 

She breathed deeply and tried to divert her thoughts from it. But it did not last long. "But...how can we climb to the ceiling?"

Baeron sighed a tired sigh and kissed her gently on the lips. "There were once steps here...but..." he shrugged with a grin, "...time deteriorates everything!" She just looked at him, her expression of alarm not changing at all. "Even us elves!" he said then, laughing again and this time it sounded right. That finally relaxed her a little. 

He embraced her stronger and Irulan embraced him back, kissing his cheek. "How do you feel?" she said, capturing his handsome face between her hands. 

"Never better," he said and leaned in to kiss her. There was a desperate and hungry edge to it, and under the circumstances that was only normal. Irulan herself was scared witless. She allowed his attempt, at this moment more than ready to do anything for him if it would make him feel any better. For moments they kissed and embraced, the darkness growing lighter because of it. And even though she loved Baeron...she realized once again that she was not IN love with him. You could only be in love with one person at a time...and well...she was in love with...with...

Irulan broke the kiss and closed her eyes, leaning her forehead on his lips. His hand stroked the back of her head as he pulled her further to himself. "It is all right," he said many moments later, gently rocking her. Irulan had no idea what he was talking about, but was only aware of her own frustration. 'Damn that man!' she thought, her frustration feeding her fury. 'Damn him!' Another sound emerged from above them and it sounded much closer, but Baeron did not bother to look up. "I know you love him and him alone," he said softly and she grew rigid in his arms, her eyes popping open. 

"No!" she whispered in protest, leaning back to look at him, "No, Baeron! I-..."

He silenced her with another kiss and she didn't possess the strength to fight it as a strange shame rose in her – the shame of not being able to give him what he needed. "It's all right, King-daughter," he said once more when he broke away. Irulan swallowed and blinked to suppress the water that swam back into her eyes, again. He caressed her cheek, his hazel eyes inhuman again. "You were promised to him. I knew that all along. But..." he sighed momentarily, "...that doesn't mean I wanted it to be different." 

Still not sure of his meaning she just shook her head, then cast it down in shame. Her hand flew up to cover her face as she gave in to crying – a more agonizing but calmer ache came over her heart as his hands glided over her shoulders, her arms and through her long, dusted hair. "Do not cry. All will be well." 

She shook her head again, in protest to all and embraced him fiercely. "I don't care! I will stay with you. With you, Baeron!"

He chuckled to that for a while. "That would be wrong, Irulan. For he loves you, too."

"I don't care!" she exclaimed, a slight echo issuing from that. Her grip on him grew stronger as his arms glided around her back, embracing her in return. 

"Come now," was the gentle and amused reply, "don't be childish. You cannot win this battle. Submit to your Fate, Irulan."

"I will not!" was her determined hiss and Baeron only laughed in reply. 

"Aragorn's kin indeed!" he said, kissing her neck. Another sound echoed from above and this time both looked up, because it sounded as if it had come from right above them. When she looked down again Baeron was gazing at her with those penetrating eyes. He did not break it as his hand came up to wipe away a lock from her face and Irulan sniffed silently. "Know this," he whispered, "I do not regret. Not a single thing. If such was the price for your touch, I would pay it again and again Irulan...without a second thought."

"What are you saying?" she said, her voice breaking and her eyes widening with alarm. He did not answer and another stone shifted above them, as some loose earth rained down in the dim glow of the chamber, but neither looked away from the other. 

He found her hand and kissed it. "That I had a fabulous time. And that I was blessed with a fantastic life. I hold no regrets for anything, only the regret that I did not meet you sooner, daughter of Kings."

Her eyes widened even further. "W-what...you HAD..." her hand grasped the front of his shirt with fury. "What the hell is that suppose to mean?!" she hissed. 

Baeron kissed her in reply. And never had anyone kissed her like that before. It was like a word in another language – full with meaning and history, but beyond her grasp. It was important, and she wanted so much to understand it! The want bloomed in her like indescribable need and for the first time, she kissed him back with the fever of it, as if that action would help her to conceive it. No understanding came. Only the end of the kiss. 

Irulan remained baffled while the elf looked up when a soft tremble shook the chamber and a rectangular piece of column moved up an inch or two, then aside. She watched in fascination as it simply glided away, though there was nowhere for it to glide into – the ceiling around it remained intact and didn't stir. But there it was....the square of a meter of thick, solid stone moving aside as if there was a hollow opening on the side, waiting for the block to glide in. A ray of artificial light landed on them and a moment later was blocked by an object. Irulan blinked and slowly regaining her senses, looked up to see the outline of Legolas' head above them, at the end of a rectangular small tunnel that sliced through a rather thick ceiling. It seemed impossibly far up and she had never thought the ceiling to be so thick! 

"Baeron! Irulan! Are you well?!" his voice echoed through the dark room and though Irulan was not aware of it at the moment, her heart trembled with the perception of it. 

"We are, Legolas," Baeron replied. 

A short silence followed. "/Where are the steps?/" Legolas said in elvish several moments later. 

Baeron sighed. "/They are no more, my Lord/"

Another silence followed. Irulan glanced from one elf to the other and back, growing more alarmed by the moment. Why would they speak elvish? In a time like this! Damnable men!

Legolas did not say anything at all, though time was ticking away and he was very aware of it. Finally Baeron hauled himself up, grimacing with pain but not halting for it. He pulled Irulan up, too and hopped to stand right below the opening. "I will push her up," he said. "My arms have the strength. You must lean further down to grasp her hand." Legolas did not move for another moment. "/I know you have no rope/," Baeron said then, his voice not gaining expression at all.

"/I have my shirt/," came the reply, "/If you jump, you can grasp it/."

"/Nay, my Lord. I can not jump/," was the matter-of-fact reply.

Again Legolas did not move as Baeron turned and pulled Irulan into a short embrace. "I will take you on my shoulder, Irulan. And Legolas will lean down to grasp you. But we must be quick. Are you ready?"

She nodded and as he was about to lift her when suddenly she grasped his arm in alarm. "Wait! What about you?" The elf just stared at her blankly. It was an expression that she had come to understand and hate in them. "No!" she whispered in alarm, her fingers digging into his arm unconsciously, "No! No, I will not go!" She tried to free herself from his grasp but his elven hold was steel. "No! I will not leave you behind!"

Baeron shook her lightly and gazed into her eyes. She stopped despite herself at the very inhuman stare in those eyes. "You will go, King-daughter!" he commanded and no one had spoken to her with such power, before. No one…not even Legolas! A moment passed as she just stared back agape. A slight tremble shook the chamber but none of the three responded to it. "Irulan," he said a moment later, his voice softer, but still strained, "long have I waited for this. Longer than you will ever understand. It is my time."

"No," she cried, weakly trying again, though by now she knew that she had no chance of breaking away. 

"It is, King-daughter," he said gently, his free hand gliding down her cheek and cupping her face. "There is no death for elves. Only relief and rest. I have much longed for it." Irulan sobbed openly now, her fear becoming real with every word and killing her moment by moment. "And I am glad that it I take my parting with you, lovely, lovely Irulan."

This time she just embraced him stronger instead of trying to break free. Her nails dug into his back. "I will not let you! I will not let you die!"

"Ah," he said in weak amusement, "I certainly hope so!" To her dismay, he pried her off himself with the ease of peeling off a little baby. She was crying too hard to fight him, at this point and he cupped her face as another, this time slightly stronger rumble shook the chamber. Again, all three ignored it. "Remember me, King-daughter," he said then. A moment passed between them and this time Irulan did feel it when the air between them shifted. His eyes expanded and covered the whole room, then Egypt itself and finally the world. She submitted willingly, reaching to him across an ocean of hazel as he reached to her. Somewhere along that infinite vastness they touched. 

Irulan stood in an open valley, the navy dome above her majestic beyond words. Never had she seen a sky so big. And with so many stars! Her eyes darted frantically, trying to take in all the vision, though it was too large to be seen all. Her stomach turned with that odd feeling – the feeling of falling as she gazed to the diamonds scattered in the dark blue-black ocean above her head. 

At that very moment a hand held hers and both warmth and immense tranquility spread through her with that simple touch. She turned around and found herself side by side with Baeron. Very slowly her features broke into surprise as his broke into amusement. He looked different. His blonde hair was long – longer than Legolas' and braided to keep it back from his face. Her mouth dropped open and her gaze slowly glided down, taking in his attire that was very different from anything she had seen before. A long moment passed until Irulan instinctively slowly looked back up and was even more shocked to see his pointed ears. He looked absolutely fantastic this way. Yes, Baeron was an amazingly handsome man. But now he was beyond that....he was...natural. And that just made him...no...she had no words for it. So she would not try to describe it. 

A long moment later he smiled and her breath hitched. His grasp on her hand tightened and Irulan could swear that she grew dizzy with that. A warm breeze came up and instantly her focus shifted, for there was a scent in that breeze. Her eyes shut involuntarily and a frown came over her face as she tried to place it in her mind. So fresh it was...so vivid...and soft. Like the smell of forest and nature, but ten times stronger then what she had experience before. Or perhaps the air itself was much clearer. 

She inhaled deeply and opened her eyes again. Yes...this was a clearing of some sort. At the edge of a forest. The trees were like nothing she had seen before. Even with the great distance between them, they were each gigantic and strangely glimmering. Or wet-like. So vivid with life...so healthy that their colors shone in the navy blue of the night and the white glimmer of the stars. 

It was then that she realized all the other figures standing in the clearing with herself and Baeron. All with long hair and beautiful, flowing attires that lazily ruffled in the warm, fragrant gust. Her eyes washed over the company and her heart began to beat faster at the realization of the fact that these were elves. Hundreds of them standing scattered in perfect silence. 

Baeron gently squeezed her hand again and she looked up at him to see him turn his gaze skyward. As did all others. Irulan looked up as well, the reality of the vision incredible to the last detail. Nothing happened for a moment or two. Then a star glided down and she held her breath with that sight. 'I should make a wish!' she thought, a childish excitement taking over her psyche. And just when she saw the second light run down the dome of the sky, she heard it. 

First it was like a sound of nature – so dim and natural and low. Then another added to it. And yet a third. And before she could understand the happenings, a chorus of incredibly gentle might rose around her. It began like a hum. And there was a hum to it, too. But then words fell in between those hums, and a melody like no other bloomed, like a shy flower, opening its thin, unused petals. She froze, not daring to breathe as the sea of elves broke into a song, there was simply no way to tell it in human terms. 

The rolling of waves...the thunder of wild horse herds running across plains...the storm tackling tree branches...the white avalanche of high mountains...the gurgling of spring rivers...the roar of forest fires...the howling of wild beasts in the night - it was all this and much, much more. She breathed again, the glory and the beauty of it simply too overwhelming for her puny senses. Out of sheer adoration and astonishment, she began to cry silent tears of happiness, her heart hurting with pleasure. 

And there was more! Somewhere along that song, she realized that she understood the words. Understood them as if they were spoken in English. Irulan would have laughed at the wonder at it, but at the moment, it was beyond her to do so. Her gaze lifted to the sky again, for an amazing display of light and color was here. Stars...dozens of stars glided through the darkness over and over again. Once, many years ago she had observed a similar thing as a meteorite shower had rained on the Earth. Harmless, of course, but very strange and beautiful. But that held not comparison to this. It could not even come close. 

"/Behold, oh the beauty of Life/!" the elves sang and her eyes fluttered at the incredible pleasure of hearing that song while more and more lights flew above her, leaving a slight and swiftly fading mark behind. So many! So many! 

"/Behold, oh the beauty of the world!

Behold, the gift of Life!

The touch of Time is upon us

The touch of Time is upon us,

Behold, the beauty of Life/!"

The warm scent washed over her again and Baeron held her hand as the melody grew in beauty and the stars fell...they fell...they fell........

She did not feel it when Baeron lifted her with the ease of lifting a child. She did not realize it as she stepped on his shoulders and slowly rose to stand upright. Her eyes were glazed, her mind stolen as she found herself in the narrow tunnel and even though she looked up to see the outline of Legolas reaching down to her as another gentle rumble shook the tomb, she neither thought, nor felt. His hand reached down to her as he glided down till his waist and when her hand reached up to him, it was not a conscious move. Legolas grasped her wrist and she held his. That was when their eyes locked and the world of the past and the world of the present collided in her mind, one shifting onto the other. 

Legolas pulled back and pulled Irulan with him when the tomb shook again and he knew that the time was too short now. He swiftly lifted himself out completely and placing his knee on the stone floor, pulled her as easily as pulling out a two year old girl. Irulan appeared out of the hole, dazed and shocked and covered in dust. He gently placed her aside and she remained exactly as placed, like a broken doll crying in silence. Legolas looked down again and his gaze collided with the other elf. 

"/Baeron, I tried the front entry, but the spiral staircase is almost completely gone/."

The other elf made a sound that seemed suspiciously like a snort. And indeed, when he looked up, that mischievous look was back in his hazel orbs. He shrugged. "No wonder none of my work survived till this day. I was a lousy architect/."

Legolas, more annoyed by his humor than relieved by it, did not return his smile. "/You must try/!" he seethed instead, frustrated as his gaze involuntarily roamed the chamber to find something –anything- of use! 

Another soft rumble shook and Baeron's smile finally gained a somber edge. "/Nay, Lord Legolas. My time has come. I wish to stay/," was his late and gentle reply. The other elf just looked back in shock and anger. He was too experienced to ignore the fact that the Scout looked far too injured to make it beyond his own estate, even if he succeeded in climbing out. But his mind refused to accept that fact and in his own desire to ignore it, his fingers embedded into the rim of the opening and turned white as his stare assumed the elven blankness to hide the pain underneath it, like the ocean covering and hiding an entire civilization. Baeron sighed a tired sigh and glanced around him. "/You saved me once in a battle long forgotten. Now, after an ocean of time, I have come to save what is dear to you. Perhaps we are even, my friend/?" he said in amusement. 

Legolas swallowed hard. "/We are not even, Baeron/," came finally his reply, "/I will be indebted to you for all times/."

The Scout laughed then – a tired, yet relieved laugh. Then stillness set between them as both grew silent with the realization of the remaining moments. Their eyes met again and neither spoke at first. What can you say at a moment like this? "/I have missed her much/," Baeron said finally, his voice merely a whisper in the silence of the tomb. "/I will go to my Queen now. Go with yours, Legolas/."

Legolas closed his eyes afraid that he would cry. Never would he cry now – the pain would only invoke pain in return from Baeron. "/Forgive me/," he managed to choke out finally. 

"/Ah/," was the amused response, "/Only if you forgive ME/." Another moment passed and the stones shifted as the square began to shake and move to its former place. "/May your path be clear. And may we meet again/."

"/In this life or the other, Baeron/," Legolas whispered as the stone shifted and sat on its place with a loud clang, hiding the smiling elf below from sight for all times.

The deep sound of stone finding rest upon stone made her blink and wake up. It was a real effort to return to the current time and place. She looked up and found Legolas looking back at her. Everything felt strange...languid and slow. As if she was underwater. What should she feel? She felt everything, and as a result, nothing. 

In her stead, Legolas felt, and his feelings sizzled, fanned out and engulfed the narrow but tall stone corridor they were sitting in, the blue and cold light of two flash lamps the only source of illumination. Such delicate regret...such brittle ache...such numbing love. Irulan slowly swallowed and took a deep, ragged breath. 

There was nothing to say. 

So she began to cry. Out of sheer desperation. And anger. And regret. And hate. She hung her head and cried like she had never cried before. She felt him by her side then, embracing her. She wanted to push him away. Instead she held on to him as if holding on to her dear life. Legolas did the same, embracing her with a strong grip. She wanted to curse him out and tell him of her deep hatred for him. Instead she buried her face into his neck while he spoke soothing words with a shaky breath. Perhaps he was crying, too - she did not know. All she knew was that the world was ending and this man was her only anchor. 

Time deserted them. Perhaps hours passed. Or maybe it was just minutes before he finally rose to his feet and lifted her in his arms. Again she wanted to tell him that she needed no such assistance. Instead she embraced his shoulders and buried her face into his chest, her crying gaining a silent and softer edge. He walked and she did not look up where to. At one point the dim shadow of the interior ended and bright daylight washed over them, along with heat. 

She was placed into the car that stood before the mansion and Legolas cupped her face in his hands, speaking. He had to repeat himself several times before Irulan managed to grasp the words and understood that he meant for her to wait here while he would go back and close the mansion entrance of the tomb. She nodded like a puppet and after one last, worried glance he departed with haste. 

As she sat alone in the car, numbed and careless, her eyes glided to the horizon and met the baffling red of a dying day. A fury at the disinterest of the rest of the world to what had happened here, bloomed in her. Along with the strangest relief. 'Every storm will come and pass,' echoed in her head as Irulan watched the sun gliding towards a slow and beautiful death in the horizon. 

Another day was ending in Egypt. 

Nothing would ever be the same. 

***

It took Irulan weeks to overcome the shock of both the Sharing and the death of Baeron. She remembered very little from those days and it remained a fragment of time loaded with blurred, vague images. A time when she slept throughout the day and thought about her dreams when she lay awake in the nighttime. She remembered visions of elves. Along with Baeron's laughter when he had carried her into the ocean in Tunisia. The scent of the ocean was followed by the feeling of his hand running through her hair. Irulan would shiver and wake up to see Legolas sitting at the edge of her bed, his hand completing the action. He would speak to her, lulling her to sleep and before long she would dream of a slender woman with long, raven hair and dark skin, then a meteorite shower, and of Arwen burning on a pile of woods; of Legolas killing a giant spider with Aragorn's dull blade and herself standing on the windy Cerin Amroth. Again she would blink and wake up to the sound of stone gliding on stone and sitting in its place with a dull bang. Again Legolas would be by her side, caressing her cheeks, speaking in elvish. 

After nine battered days her mind finally stilled. The fever that had been burning her left her limbs and Irulan breathed, feeling health returning to her body. She would still cry every now and then, out of sheer longing and regret and guilt. Legolas would stand by silently, caressing her back and looking downright disgusted at himself. Many times she saw tears in his eyes as well, but if he shed those, he did so alone. 

He took her on daily walks in the castle and the gardens. The winter days would not allow them to stay long, but Irulan loved the strolls and remained thankful for them. All in all, the two weeks she spent with Legolas passed with tender idleness. He kept his respectful distance and often she thought he looked downright anxious and timid - something she would never expect him to look. As a matter of fact from time to time she caught him in hesitation and in indecision – she felt his longing to touch her and observed him giving in to defeat and pulling back, at a loss of heart to do so. 

And Irulan did not give him the courage. She liked it this way. It was easier. She could think better when his fingers did not enflame her skin or his lips did not spin her mind. And she thought a lot in the last few days, when her mind seemed to function clearer and the images of the past days along with the images of the Sharing vanished into the mist. She thought about everything, but mostly she thought about herself. About what kind of person she was. What kind of person she wanted to be. In the dim, warm silence of her castle room, she lay in the dark and thought about her past. Legolas -who never seemed to sleep or do anything else than be with her- would observe her and often ask what she was thinking about. 

Irulan would tell him, then. And he would prop up on his elbow, lying next to her, and listen in deep silence. Every fiber in his body would burn with the desire to touch her, but he held back, sinking his determination into his body like one sinks in a sharp, big blade. Too ashamed and shaken he was for such an action. At this moment all he could hope for was that she would not hate him. For he was certain that his heart could not take the pain if she did. 

"What day is it today?" she said as he combed through her hair. Once again, rain was falling on the windowpane and the distant, shrill song of the wind was audible. 

"It is Wednesday," Legolas said gently. Neither spoke for several moments and the whine outside continued while the warmth in the room was comforting and relaxing. The soft splatter of rain drummed on. The fireplace danced merrily and as Irulan watched the flames, memories of her first Sharing came to her. They held no anxiety or alarm. Only the pain that accompanied every time she thought of Baeron. She cast her eyes down, drawing invisible designs on her bedspread. 

"Friday will be a good day for parting. I can tell," was her quiet statement.

Legolas froze behind her. The moment he heard the words, he knew that he had been expecting them. He also knew that it was simply beyond his power to accept them. He remained unmoving, a slow, sizzling heat spreading through his entire body. He looked down at his hands and was momentarily surprised by the fact that they were not shaking. "Irulan," he managed to whisper with a hoarse voice, but got no further. The urge to scream, cry and protest was incredible. "Do not desert me," he managed to add many moments later. 

"I am not deserting you," she said, almost gently. Her face remained hidden from him and at this moment he was glad that it was. "I am parting from you."

"Please," he sighed, his voice breaking. The fire burned on and on and he was certain that he himself was burning from the inside out. 

"Legolas...it is over," she whispered in reply. So engulfed in his own alarm and helpless fear he was, that she did not hear the same hoarseness in her tone. "You are...too much. I am too weak. I cannot carry this."

He did not know how it happened, but a moment later he was sitting on the edge, across from her and the brush had vanished from his grasp. "I will change! I regret my actions more than I can tell. I will change Irulan!" he said hastily, open begging in his voice. 

Her fingers glided over his cheeks. She did not realize it at that moment but it was what Baeron used to do to her. "My heart aches, too," she whispered, gazing into his eyes that spoke of terror and alarm. "But...I do not have the strength. Nor do I have the will. Release me if you love me."

"Irulan," he breathed, then swallowed hard as his hands, that had finally begun to shake, enfolded hers. "I know that I hold no place in your heart any longer." She parted her lips to speak, but he placed his fingers on her mouth, stilling her – his first intimate act weeks. "After what I have done, it is only fair. But...I will regain it. I promise!" he whispered with urgency, his fingers squeezing hers. "I promise! I will change. For you, I will! I'll be anything you want! I'll do anything. Please...don't leave me..." his voice trailed off into a sob that Legolas bit down ferociously, struggling for control and at the same time struggling for the loss of it. 

Irulan sighed and looked to the window. The gloomy light of the day had not changed and matched her mood perfectly. "I have thought much about us these last days." She turned back to him and he remained, his head hung, unable to meet her gaze, his figure trembling. "About you. About me." Her fingers glided over his face and Legolas swallowed again, but did not look up or move other than that. "If my heart would listen to my senses, it would have stopped loving you a long time ago." A short silence as a smile crawled up her lips. "But my stupid little heart is deaf to my calls. Always was. Always will be." She bit her lower lip, watching his terrible state before she added "But you must understand – I cannot be with you." Legolas shook his head in denial, his eyes fixed on the bed sheet as his fingers grasped it, curling into a fist. "Too much has happened," Irulan exhaled. "Too many things that we cannot pretend to overlook."

"Time will change that," was his hoarse whisper of a reply. 

"Perhaps," she sighed as he finally lifted up his eyes to her. "Or perhaps not. I don't know. All I know is that I must go."

"Time changes everything, Irulan," he said, his voice strained. She could not remember seeing this sort of pain in anyone's gaze and a part of her wanted to stay, just to make him happy. But how could she make him happy when she was not Irulan anymore? When she was broken apart and re-pasted into something completely alien? He did not understand. He thought she was still the same woman. But she wasn't. Never would be. "In time you can forgive me, though I will never forgive myself." His right hand found hers once more and even his touch was full with pleading. "I wish I could change the past! I wish it so much!" he whispered, his eyes sparkling both with determination and unshed tears. "I wish I could go back not to merely weeks ago, but to millennia ago and undo my actions! To undo my stupidity! To undo my work of ignorance!" He sighed and briefly closed his eyes. "But...," was his defeat of a whisper, "I cannot. Forever I am cursed to live with its memory."

"Legolas," she said gently, combing through his hair, "don't think that you are the only one who makes mistakes. So long you have lived and I cannot imagine that any other could have made fewer mistakes than you have, in all this time!" He gazed at her with pure pain and she continued. "You said it yourself and you were right – you are not god. I am sure that Baeron forgives you. And Bentanta, too."

He took a sharp breath, his gaze locked to hers, unmoving. "And you, Irulan?" he exhaled, almost inaudibly. 

"I do, too," she said a long moment later. 

"Then remain!" he hissed with urgency, grasping her hand once more and shifting to sit closer. "Remain and I shall prove to you that I am ready to do anything you want, Irulan. Anything!"

Irulan looked down on the bed between them and for many moments only the rain spoke, the dull sound filling the room. The smallest of hopes flickered alive in Legolas. A tiny flame. It was extinguished too soon. She looked up and the determination in her dark orbs rendered him speechless. "No. I cannot do this. I WILL not do this. It is over, Legolas."

"No," he whispered and a distant part of his brain told him how ridiculous he must look at this moment. But the major part of his brain only registered the look in her eyes. The look of Aragorn. "I love you," he whispered, his fingers gliding over her face, her arms, her hands, her chest and back. "No one but you." She did not answer, but looked away. He did not cease his caress of her, his expression crowded with passion, love, dread, regret, longing, sorrow and fear. "More each moment. Further each day." A moment passed and he found her chin, gently turning it to himself. Her eyes fluttered and found his. Very slowly, with the caution one would show in holding a butterfly wing, he leaned in, his lids closing. Irulan did not draw back or resist. His lips brushed over hers, and her eyes closed as well. 

The oh so familiar taste. The incredible flame. The great, tidal longing. The slightest distance sprang forth between them as he pulled back a little, and right after that, the tide returned, as did the taste. His lips moved as if in gentle speech. And maybe it was a speech. Of hunger. Of need. Of sweet surrender. 

Before long they were kissing. Tender and gentle, like the first rays of the brightest morning. His fingers found her nape, wandering down her spine, all the way to her waist. So incredible this woman. Everything he wanted and everything he needed, pulled and wrapped into this little, magnificent package. He did not have the words to speak the love in his heart. 

Too soon it was over and she drew away, melting between his fingers and disappearing. He opened his eyes and knew what this meant. It was worse than death. 

"I love you too," she whispered, but the words fell like the wings of dead butterflies. "But it's not enough, Legolas." He swallowed, his heart tearing apart so tangibly, that he thought blood must stain his shirt any moment. He shook his head, not finding words to say. Her fingers cupped his cheek as her eyes found the beautiful gaze. "Release me," she whispered.

He shook his head again. 'This must be what death is like!' he thought, the agony defying all words. "I...I cannot," he whispered in perfect terror, grabbing her shoulders and embracing her. She did not resist and melted against him. "I won't!" She said nothing and he began to place urgent, hasty kisses on her cheeks, almost frantic. "I won't! This will all pass, Irulan. Tomorrow is a new day. We will be better, my love!" She said nothing and he embraced her again, perhaps a little too strong. "I won't let go. Never!"

Irulan sighed and placed her head on his shoulder. "This is goodbye," she whispered, feeling relaxed as he kept his caress of her back. "Let us set the battlements on fire."

Very slowly a mist dwindled into the room, then. It seeped through the walls, the ceiling and the floor. It swirled, turned and glided, slowly filling out the chamber. She inhaled and let it settle into her as Legolas embraced her stronger.

It thickened further and further – a chaotic array of clouds, dancing a soft waltz, gliding along the walls, caressing the carpet, tenderly settling around the bed. When it parted, two figures remained, their stance tense and speaking of dislike as they faced each other, an evident glare on their faces. 

The woman raised her eyes and met the cold blue gaze of the man. "You are a child, Irulan," he said, his voice frosty and distant. "So is your kind. Children playing with fire." 

Irulan clenched her jaws. A flicker of flame surged through her. "I think you underestimate me, elf!" she spat as a gasp of shock rose from the invisible crowd. Perhaps she should feel ashamed, but at this moment all she could feel was satisfaction. Especially since Legolas' expression turned into one of dumbfounded surprise. 

However, it lasted too short. A moment later an unexpected grin of pleasure appeared on his features and a shock ran through her when his hand grasped hers. "Is that so?" he mused, his eyes speaking of self-confidence and irritating charm. "Valiant words. For someone so afraid," was the whispery addition before he placed a single kiss on the back of it, his gaze still locked to hers. 

She tore her hand away, blushing despite her best wishes. The elf regarded her coolly, not de-motivated by the action at all. "If you deny me now, you only prove me right in the matter of your kind," he stated calmly. "But deny me later…and my vote lies with yours."

Irulan just stared at him agape, words erased from her mind. A flock of birds passed above them as Legolas turned away, gazing into the orange sunset that bled on the Coliseum. She watched in confusion as he sighed deeply, his eyes narrowing as if he was not looking at the structure, but the past itself. "Why the past? It is gone and dead for all times," was his almost inaudible murmur. 

Irulan, too, placed her hands on the rusty railing, standing beside him. "YOU are alive, Legolas," she said and he glanced at her, for the first time looking sad and tired. "The past lives in you."

He nodded, casting his face down and she felt alarmed by his sudden sorrow and his hidden agony. She waited in indecision until a whisper fell from his lips, as gentle as the heat of autumn in Italy. "But none has loved me," he said the terror in his voice strange to Irulan's ears, "and no one ever will." 

He turned his back to her, meaning to walk away, but the cold command in Irulan's voice stopped him in mid-track. "I am Aragorn's kin!" she seethed between her teeth. "You will NOT refuse my pledge, Legolas!"

She walked up to him and grasped his arm, forcing him to turn around. And Baeron obliged, looking down at her with mesmerized eyes. Hazel locked into brown and she did not see it coming but before she knew, his hand traveled up and then dived into her hair, slowly combing through it with one fluid, gentle motion. Irulan remained shocked, staring at his amused expression, speechless at such a bold gesture. His fingers completed the journey and only after that, they moved to grasp hers. She blinked and turned to look down at their entwined grasp as he placed the napkin into her palm and folded her fingers upon it. "Hope is a mighty force, King-daughter," he said as the flames of the candles that scattered in the exotic restaurant played on his sharp, handsome features. 

Irulan looked back at their locked grip, shifting with discomfort. His other hand cupped her cheek and before she knew it, Legolas kissed her. Something exploded in her with that kiss that felt like a combination of lightning and the touch of rose petals on her lips. "I love you, Irulan," came his soft voice when he drew back and her eyes opened to meet the blue fire of Legolas as he gazed at her with unspeakable passion. Mesmerized, she gazed up to him, her heart back to a time when she was six years old and when the world was a different place. A dazzling smile took his lips. "I have led you out of the mist," he said, drawing a graceful arc in the air and a dark night along with the overview of a gleeful crowd of distant city lights, basked in a childish Masquerade came into view momentarily as the haze parted with that gesture. 

Irulan's eyes took in the scenery before they settled on him once more. "I love you too, Legolas," she whispered, her hands trailing down the hard surface of the Gondorian armor that he wore, her fingers tracing the pearly shimmer of the White Tree emblem. "And I am yours to take." 

He locked eyes with her and his blue gaze covered the heavens, burning her skin with the most pleasurable fire and Irulan trembled underneath it, knowing that she had reached the summit of her entire life and all was doomed to live in the shadow of this day forever. "In you, I have found all," he said in return, his voice a melody. "A confidant for my secrets. A listener to my tales. A lover to my heart."

Irulan dropped the heavy iron blade from her hand, never unlocking her eyes from him. "Give me your pain, then," she said, her voice ringing in the silence of the room, bouncing off the weapons on the walls. 

Instead, Legolas cupped her cheek and leaned in for another kiss and excruciating pleasure and sharp love cut through her entire body when their lips met. He placed warm, lazy kisses on her cheeks and on her neck, encircling her until he stood right behind her, his arm secured around her waist. "You cannot leave, Irulan," he whispered into her ear. "I dare not let you go. Stay with me." 

A sigh of frustration escaped her lips. She unclasped his grasp and stepped away, then turned to face him. Baeron stood before her in his immaculate beauty, his playful eyes sparkling in the dark. "Are you sure you made the right choice, Irulan?" he said slowly. "No one is perfect. Neither are elves."

Irulan bit her lip and looked away. "I am not a toy of Fate!" she seethed a moment later. 

"Alas, we are all toys of Fate," Baeron sighed in return and crossed his arms on his chest, glancing towards the sparkling blue water. "I fear this frailty, Irulan," he murmured, squinting his eyes. "Everything so grave and important will be nothing but air some day."

Terror ran through her and she grasped his hand. "No, Baeron! This day is not lost. I will carry it always. As will you!" she hissed, eager to soothe him and herself. 

He looked down at her then and she swallowed with the look in his eyes. His right hand found her temple and his touch spoke books. "Remember me, King-daughter," he whispered. 

Irulan closed her eyes and threw her arms around him. Sobs rose in her throat and she gave in to them, crying into Legolas' shoulder as sobbed into hers. "This is goodbye," she whispered again, "Let us set the battlements on fire." 

The mist of the past engulfed them and left no room for the future. 

The page stood fully written – dark blotches of ink ran into words and from these words sprang lines of sketches of a man braiding a woman's hair, or a beach adorned with spidery trees, a mighty ship visible in the distance as two figures walked towards it in the sand. Some lines were scratched out, rewritten in haste while others went on perfect – without a single correction. Some spoke of the past and some of the present. Some spoke of sorrow and others of joy. There was a tiny, hasty drawing of a man sitting in a bed, his back on the bed board while another one was facing him on a chair and distant flags fluttered in a far off tower. More words...promises, hopes, battle cries, sighs of defeat. Then a clumsy array of strokes that looked like a tall and a short figure, lying on their mattresses, facing a fire in a crowded forest. Other sentences followed, gracefully written, the letters like a piece of art. A small sketch of the lotus flower was squeezed between two paragraphs that spoke of love and longing. A disarray of letters, heavy droplets of ink, more words, more wild drawings...until there was nothing to write, draw, sketch, scribble upon and all was covered and filled.  

Fate glanced down at it and the left corner of her lips curled up ever so slightly in satisfaction. She ran her fingers over the leaf and words, emotions, silent prayers, sighs, wails sparked to life underneath the touch of the Great Artist, their whispers fanning out in echoes in the silent room. She inhaled gently once and a tinge of contentment was in it – a beautiful story this was and she was happy with her work.

Then her long fingers reached out to turn the page and glided over the blank cream colored parchment. Nothing spoke, sighed, sobbed, hoped, fought. It stood empty as can be - untouched and new. A slight frown settled on her immaculate features and for a moment she hesitated, her gaze wandering around the chamber. A large canvas was stuffed into a corner, the painting not complete, the colors in the process of drying. Other such paintings were stacked dismissively here and there – a woman releasing a little basket into a stream, tears on her face as she looked at it. Another showed a violent massacre somewhere in the Far East, and the crimson of blood was so perfect that it held the eye. An uncountable number of parchments, scrolls, leather-bound books were lying around – some left open, others stacked neatly on shelves. There were woven carpets, rolled and placed away, or half completed, waiting in dust. Pages with symbols of musical notes jutted out here and there, waiting for the last tune of a symphony or silent with the satisfaction of being complete. Even sculptures – bronze, iron, clay, wood, glass- stood frozen, speaking of Her unsurpassed skill, its perfection evident in everything She touched. 

Her eyes found the empty page in front of her once more and the feather was tapped onto her perfect lips. Then another brief moment of hesitation, and before long, a quick dab of the pen into the ink. The very air stilled became heavy with excited expectance. But she neither noticed, nor cared, her mind engulfed only in the passion of creating. 

The feather's tip touched the leaf.

Behold – a tale was born where before there was none. 

THE END


	26. Epilogue, A Tale of Passion

She patiently waited for the fax to come out, then held it up for closer inspection. Her eyes scanned through the article, gathering only what Anne had already told her a few days ago, and finally settled on the picture. She could not help a grin from blooming on her face. Michael's pale face, frozen in an expression of despise and dismay, was looking back at her. It was hard to believe that this was the man whom Irulan had seen months ago. Michael had always been an attractive man who emanated strength and class. Not anymore. He seemed to be thinner. His once so well kept hair was longer and hung in limp strands. There were lines around his eyes and his mouth, visible even in this poor photo. 

Next to him stood Elizabeth and, if such a thing was possible, she was even harder to recognize. Her pale and smooth skin had turned into a dirty tan. Her long, lustrous wavy black hair was short and plastered against her face with sunken cheeks and baggy eyes. For someone who has been living that kind of life for several months now, she looked as dazed and shocked as if it was her first day. 

Children were surrounding them and their dark, blue-black skin pronounced only the paleness of the duo. The grin on those young faces, too, was a true contrast to their silent agony. The article was about their incredible sacrifice and their decision to travel the world for the next ten years. They would live without any property or money – for the sole purpose of helping those in need. And God knows the couple tried to look as decisive as possible. But Irulan knew them too well to fall for such a thing. She had no doubt that Michael and Elizabeth were wishing to be dead this minute. They would never be a member of the Circle again. In fact, they would be lucky if they were allowed to work in anything remotely related to the Circle, elves or their archives. Elves had a very keen sense of justice – they were extremely tolerant, gentle and giving. But when stirred, their punishment was far sharper than that of mortals. 

She sighed and her expression grew graver as a glaze wandered into her eyes. "Kenya" it said. Kenya meant Africa. And Africa meant Egypt. And Egypt meant… 

Irulan swallowed and tried to resist. But neither her strength, nor her will-power would ever suffice to resist the overwhelming dread that still crept up to her with such recollections. That damnable, keen and agonizing dread. The kind that always stuffed a lump into her throat and itched her eyes and hurt her heart. She took a deep breath, trying to turn her mind away from it. But her mind never listened. And it would not listen today, either. Fabulous hazel eyes. The touch of a friend. A hearty laughter. An amused grin…

Baeron's memory was as gentle and graceful as ever. It came like a force of nature, and once again touched a part of her that simply refused to heal. As with all elves, his death had been mourned for a long time by the Circle. And again as with all elves, all his fortune was automatically transferred to the Council. It took the members only a matter of days to reach a unified decision – the decision being that his wealth as well as his belongings should be Irulan's. 

It was an act of sheer politeness and respect. After all, he had had a great bond with her, and had even died for her. He would have wanted her to have what once was his. But Irulan, shocked by such a suggestion, had refused, of course. She didn't want Baeron's money. The sum alone was mind-blowing to her. Nevertheless… she had failed to decline his belongings. So she had turned away the wealth, but kept the right to his possessions. Not because she was interested in their value or intended to sell them. No, not at all. It was simply because, even though a part of her wanted to forget the matter completely and turn her back to it, another part wanted to visit all his estates in different locations in the world, and walk through his collection. To remember and honor him by touching each article, inspecting each object and trying to imagine what they had meant to him. 

It would take a while for Irulan to finally take that step. But one day she would indeed travel the world in Baeron's tracks. And see what he had always urged her to see: the mountains of Tibet. The plains of Kenya. The tundras of China and the frozen lakes of Finland… 

Not today, though. Today she was stuck in an office in New York. 

Breaking out of her daze, she placed the recent paper on top of the stack, took the mug of coffee into her other hand, then strode towards her table. Upon arriving there another wave of frustration hit her. "Who put these damn flowers here again?!" she yelled into the office. No answer came. "Damn it all!" she hissed and banging the stack of papers on her table proceeded to drag the baskets of flowers away to throw them out. She grabbed the handles of two large baskets and began to stride towards the hall. As always, everyone eyed her warily, spoke in whispers, exchanged giggles. Irulan headed none. She rudely stacked the baskets into their usual corner from where the cleaners would pick them up and throw them out. Just a few weeks ago she would have felt terribly guilty for throwing out such items of beauty. But after seeing them in such quantities and with stubborn resistance, it had become rather easy. 

The trip was repeated several times and finally when all the roses, daisies, orchids, irises and violets had been removed from her desk and there was enough space to work for her, Irulan sank into the chair, covering her face with her palms and resting her elbows on her table. She took a slow, deep breath and massaged her face. It took her a few minutes to reach a calm state of mind but eventually she succeeded and began to read through her other fax messages. Somewhere along that procedure, her eyes collided with Lisa who was on her way to her with another large bundle of exotic flowers. "Stop right there!" she yelled with anger. 

The woman froze in her tracks, her eyes widening with alarm. "Irulan...these are for you," she stammered. 

"You don't say!" was the growl of a reply. "I don't want them! I keep telling you and you keep bringing them in!" 

"But...I HAVE to!" 

"Lisa," Irulan seethed, her tone betraying both impatience and threat, "we spoke about this too many times. And finally I thought I had succeeded in convincing you. Today you act as if we haven't spoken a single word!" 

"But Irulan..." 

The other woman held up her hand. "NO! NO FLOWERS! I don't care what you do with them! DON'T BRING THEM IN! Is that so damn hard to understand?!" 

Lisa took a deep breath and glanced behind her, as if the flower shop manager was waiting there. Irulan watched her in annoyance and was about to jump to her feet and shove her out of the large office room that was filled with dozens of other people, most of whom were eyeing them, trying hard not to be noticed, when another voice spoke up. "Congratulations." 

Both Irulan and Lisa blinked and turned to see another woman standing at Irulan's desk. "For what, Vanessa?" Irulan said with a tired sigh. Great! Another duel with this woman was just what she needed. 

"I don't know what to congratulate you for..." the woman drawled loftily and locked eyes with her. Her green eyes were a stark contrast to her dark skin, her high cheekbones and her dark, curly hair. "You must have done SOMETHING to be promoted like that." 

Irulan, very confused at this point, glanced at Lisa who shifted the large bouquet to her other arm and stared back at her. "What on earth are you talking about?" she groaned finally, opening and closing her drawers, pretending to look for something, for the sake of being active. 

"Your change of status, darling," sighed Vanessa. 

"What change? What status?" Suddenly her expression changed. An eerie and rather anxious calmness sank on her features. Both Lisa and Vanessa waited awkwardly as Irulan blanched, swallowed hard and looked up at the other woman. "What happened?" she managed to choke out finally. 

"Oh stop it!" spat Vanessa to that and leaned towards her, looking quite threatening. "Stop pretending innocence! I don't know what you did, but you did it well, sister. Since it gained you the position of office manager!" 

"What the hell are you suggesting?!" Irulan growled and slowly rose to her feet. 

"Oh you know, all right," was the seething reply. 

"Listen Vanessa," she hissed and took a step towards the other woman who was surprised by her dangerous state and tipped a little back to clear the distance between them. "You better speak. And I mean THIS DAMN MINUTE!" 

"She is the boss now," cut in Lisa with a tinge of amusement, her eyes locked to Vanessa's, "you better speak." 

"Get lost!" hissed the black woman. 

"Not as long as the boss doesn't want me to," was the pleased reply. 

Vanessa opened her mouth for a rather displeasing comment, but Irulan was faster: "NOW, Vanessa!" 

The woman, cornered now but not willing to show it, blinked and took a hasty breath, crossing her arms on her chest in a defensive manner. "I told you. You are manager now," was her late and spiteful exclamation. 

Irulan just stared at her agape. A long moment passed between the trio. "How can that be?" she whispered finally. 

"My question exactly," mumbled Vanessa, inspecting the ceiling. 

Irulan glanced at the office. Everyone had stopped what they were doing, their eyes fixed on the three women. "Not again!" she growled and throwing the papers in her hands on the table grabbed her trenchcoat and her cell phone, walking out of the office with long strides. Once in the elevator, she punched the numbers with great fury and waited. At least the bastard had acquired a cell phone! It rang once, twice, then clicked open. She was walking through the lobby at that time and waited for him to speak up. "Yes, my love?" 

"Legolas! I am so sick and tired of this shit!" she growled, now breathing harshly out of sheer fury. True, it sounded like a terrible thing to say to an elf. And especially an elf of his status! But Irulan had lost her kindness months ago. "Enough!" 

"What happened?" was his lofty and cool question. 

"You know what happened!" she yelled and when an elder woman passing her by flinched at her tone, she decided to lower her voice and began to walk down the crowded Madison Avenue of New York. 

"Calm down, Irulan," he said gently, "Tell me what the matter is." 

"Legolas," she exhaled in frustration and stopped abruptly, leaning on the nearest building wall and closing her eyes, "enough. You have to stop. Leave me alone!" 

"I am doing so!" he growled then. "Against all my suffering, I am fulfilling your wish!" 

"No you are not! This is the third job, damn it! I am tired of quitting and starting all over again." 

"Then don't," was the calm reply. 

"Don't interfere and I won't!" she hissed and opened her eyes again, resuming her walk - this time slower. "I don't want your help. I don't want anything from you!" Her own words rang harsh in her ears and she tried to soften her tone. "I don't want flowers. Or bulky paychecks, Legolas. I don't want to be the manager or executive or whatever. Stop doing this!" 

"Irulan," he began gently and she knew exactly what would follow. Legolas did not disappoint her. "I am only investing and enlarging my business. If you are referring to that magazine headquarters on Madison Avenue, I bought it as a business investment." 

"Oh really?" was her dry intervention. "And I suppose my name on the employee list was a true surprise for you!" 

He ignored her statement completely and continued in the same, smooth manner. "It is only just that I promote honest and hard working employees. I always did so and I always will." 

"Legolas...hardworking?! I mean...I have been there barely a MONTH!" 

"Yes. I apologize for the delay." 

Irulan moaned and rolled her eyes. She halted again, massaging her face as the crowd walked by her. "Fine," she said finally, her anger adding to her stubbornness. "Have your magazine. I quit!" 

He did not answer for a moment or two. "Irulan...come now," he began cautiously, "I promise not to send flowers." 

She shook her head and exhaled in frustration. Why on earth could she not hate this man? God knows he deserved it! "As soon as you stop with the flowers you start with the damn chocolate, Legolas!" No point in pretending that she had actually managed to resist it. Legolas had discovered too early that even though Irulan was immune to flowers and showers of gifts, she could never resist chocolate. "I gained like 10 pounds because of that!" 

"More like four," he said then and she froze at the voice that held none of the digital buzz. Irulan did not turn around and a moment later he walked into her perimeter, completing his usual intimidating encircling act and standing before her. He looked amazing. Stunning. Fabulous. He wore a simple black sweater and dark jeans with a black suede jacket on top. His silver hair was tied into a loose ponytail and seemed to have grown longer. Though nothing else about him had changed. His face held no lines. His eyes no tiredness. His skin no sign of any aging whatsoever. He locked eyes with her, a beguiling smile on his perfect lips as he clasped his hands behind his back, pushing up his chin. 

Irulan bit her lower lip - to prevent herself from smiling or saying some very harsh words, she did not know. She gave a frustrated groan and clicked her cell phone shut, gliding it along with her hands into the pockets of her cream colored trenchcoat. "And you look even more fabulous with it," he added gently as they continued to stare at each other. 

"Spare me, Greenleaf," she sighed finally and began to walk again - this time idler. He kept perfect pace with her, of course, and did not speak for a while. The dense crowd spilled around them like a dark tide as a rumble shook the darkened heavens. "I'll never understand why you choose to stay in this overpopulated city!" he groaned finally, brushing by yet another group and gliding to walk next to her once more. 

"Because you don't like it here," she said with a lofty tone, her head high, her looks focused ahead. 

Legolas smiled deftly. "Actually, I HAVE come to like it," he stated a moment later. She gave him a sidelong glance and he shrugged gracefully, frowning and looking up to the sky. "As a matter of fact I am in town to take a look at some apartments that are on sale in this building in Soho. I think it was the district of..." 

Her eyes widened with disbelief when she heard the word 'Soho'. "Legolas!" 

"Yes?" he said in his fabulous soft tone. 

"Don't you dare do that!" 

"Do what, Irulan?" 

To his amazement she stopped and stomped her foot. He said nothing and stared back blankly while she gave him a furious glare. The fire of love kindled in him once again. Another rumble shook the heavens as a small, chilly gust played with the dark locks that had freed themselves from the rest of the hair that was -unfortunately- pinned up loosely. Irulan looked absolutely breath-taking. Every day she seemed to look more so. The air of defeat and weakness had left her completely - replaced by something that could only be described as Aragorn-like stubbornness and persistence. Every single day he wanted her more. Every single day she refused him. 

He sighed, placing his hands in the pockets of his jacket. His fingers glided over the cold metal of the cell phone. Mentally he smiled then - even elves could change! For some people they did so, willingly. "I have missed you terribly," he whispered and only realized his words once they were spoken. 

Irulan, taken aback by that sudden confession, hastily cast her gaze down and pulled her wild locks behind her ear. A moment passed between them as another distant rumble was heard and the world grew a shade darker. The throng moved by them perfectly unaffected. "Stop following me around," she groaned finally and it did not come out as edgy as she had hoped it would. 

"I can't," he whispered, taking a small step towards her. 

She acknowledged his move by giving him a pointed look, then embracing herself as a cooler breeze flew up to them. 'Some spring weather!' she thought as she glanced up to the sky. "Also, stop messing with my friends, Legolas," she growled suddenly, locking eyes with him again. His features instantly hardened and gained a blank edge, and Irulan knew that she had surprised him. "What happened to Harold?" 

He glanced away. "What happened to him?" was his late statement. 

Irulan pursed her lips in anger. "He was rather interested in me two weeks ago at that party," she seethed as his head flew up to meet her gaze. 

"Yes. When you wore THAT dress," he pushed in with a dark tone. 

Irulan just stared at him in confusion. "What dress?" 

"The black one," growled the elf and took a step towards her, his eyes fierce. "The one that leaves your back bare." 

She blinked, then looked away momentarily with a frown. "Did I?" was her confused and almost inaudible question. He regarded her in silence, his gaze a piercing blue, as she tried to recall the particular day. "Oh yes...true," she said finally. "I remember because he complimented me on it." The look in his eyes could have frozen dancing flames. "But..." she added, her own tone growing edgy as well, "...he miraculously stopped calling merely days later." A short moment passed as the elf swiftly suppressed his anger and jealousy and his face melted into an innocent expression. "Would you like to explain to me how that happened?" 

As always, Legolas strictly avoided lying. And she had grown to guess the truth just by the way he walked around it. "Perhaps he changed his mind?" 

"Oh yes, I think he did," she said dryly, pushing up her chin. "As a matter of fact I think he was PERSUADED to do so. Just like Martin. And Lars. And -let's not forget- Tom, who must find it very hard to call from his little town in Idaho, to where he was suddenly transferred." 

Legolas inhaled with disinterest, glancing around the street as a white light illuminated the city momentarily. "Well...what can I say?" A very feral but overly attractive smile adorned his lips when his blue eyes found her again and glided briefly over her to rest on her face. "Their loss." 

She groaned in frustration once more and began to walk again. Legolas walked right beside her, silent and cautious. "Would you have some coffee with me?" he asked tentatively, glancing at her. 

"Since when do you drink coffee?" 

"I have grown to like that, too," he said quietly. He had grown to like many things that Irulan was fond of. 

"No, thank you." He tried hard not to feel the slash of disappointment at that. He tried his hardest. And felt it anyway. They walked on for another while in silence as he debated on insisting, but felt at a loss of heart to do so. "Legolas!" she said suddenly and froze in her steps. He halted as well and turned to her with raised eyebrows. "How on earth did you know what I wore that night?" 

Legolas, looking rather caught off-guard for an elf, grimaced and inspected his boots leisurely to gain a few moments. "What night?" 

"Legolas!" 

"Well I must have some coffee," he groaned with disinterest and looked up. "Ah, there is a cafe!" He smiled and turned to see Irulan glaring at him, her immaculate features twisted into a furious pout - which invoked the desire to grab her and kiss her, so he smiled broader. "Can we continue this conversation indoors?" 

"No," she cut off and advanced on him. Though he did not move in the slightest, every fiber in his body sang with excitement at that -supposedly- threatening action. "First off, we are not having a conversation. Secondly, you will tell me now! What on earth are you doing?! Having me followed?" 

He shrugged deftly and walked by her, halting when he reached her side. "I'll tell you when we have a conversation," he said with a low voice to her ear, then smiled and continued towards the cafe as a slight drizzle began to descend on New York. Irulan, momentarily baffled by the effect that simple behavior and the brush of his warm breath against her cheek had on her, remained frozen and closed her eyes. 'Damn all sentiments!' she cursed silently. 'I want to be a piece of rock!' She turned to see him striding away as another lightning washed the world in white. 

"Greenleaf! You impossible, stubborn, frustrating, immature...-" 

She did not get to finish, for he had arrived at the cafe and completely ignoring her, opened the door and let himself in, disappearing from view. Irulan stomped again, then took a deep breath, walking towards the door in blooming fury. "You will NOT refuse me," she growled under her breath, not even conscious that she was saying it out loud, "I am the daughter of kings!" She tore the door of the cafe open and was greeted by warmth, the smell of coffee and a soft music. Another deep breath and the door shut behind her, leaving the world outside. 

***

"He looks very strong, my Lady." 

"Stop your fretting! This fortress can never be taken," she growled, annoyed by her servant. Another gust sailed by them and threw her hair to the right. She did not feel its icy touch as her eyes narrowed to get a better look at the figure clad in black who stood at the head of his troops. Unconsciously her frown deepened and the slightest worry danced into her soul once more. 

"But this foe is different!" he urged, "He is very persistent! He will break us by his patience alone!" 

She gave him a poisonous glare and he shut up. "NO ONE has taken this fortress. NO ONE will," she seethed, trying to sound as sure as she wished to be. With an effort to look as determined as can be (though it was somewhat hard to do so with this cursed cumbersome heavy armor) she strode along the fortress wall, her soldiers jumping to attention while she passed by. She reached the tower and walked down the spiral staircase, mumbling curses. "Damned elf! He doesn't accept the simple fact that he can NOT win!" she hissed to herself. And before she could fulfill her share of bitter comments, she was in the open again. The gates creaked open and Irulan strode out, the bluish light reflecting on her white armor and the wind still playing with her dark, long hair. 

Legolas began to walk towards her as well and she not only felt envy of his seemingly much more comfortable black soft tunic outfit, but also annoyed by his confident stride. They met in the middle and furious brown met cool blue. 

A moment passed between them and now that she stood so close to him and outside of her fortress, she felt a strange lack of confidence swirling into her mind. "Leave!" she said and in the eerie, dull silence her voice sounded strange. Almost metallic, like her outfit. "You cannot take this castle." 

He did not answer right away, but gave her a long, intimidating look. Then his eyes glided over her shoulder and up the bricks of the impressive building behind her. "I like this fortress," he said slowly and smiled before he met her eyes again. "It shall me mine." 

She pushed up her chin, the flame in her eyes flickering lively. "Over and over again you have tried. And each time, you were defeated." 

"It does not matter," was the calm reply, "for the final victory will be mine." 

Her eyes wandered over the mass of troops behind him and collided with those of a young girl standing a few steps back. The girl, looking rather unusual with her short, cropped hair and the attire of a young boy, grinned with amusement when Irulan's gaze locked with her own and stepped next to the elf. 

"Traitor!" hissed Irulan.

The other shrugged in the most careless fashion. "There were days when you called me far better things, my Queen," was her calm reply. 

Irulan clenched her jaws. "That must have been before you deserted me," she seethed.

"Ah...but I have not!" Hope said, grinning even broader. "As you can see, I have returned to you."

Irulan gave her an extremely dry look. "You are not needed any longer," was her late, frosty reply.

"I am always needed," the girl mused, a slender smile on her lips as she cocked her head and gave Irulan an unnerving, deep gaze. "And I always answer calls of need," was the addition before she turned to Legolas, who stood aside watching the confrontation with a tinge of amusement on his features. The man bowed his head slightly, his gesture speaking of gratitude and Hope's smile grew into a grin.  

More than annoyed by their silent, friendly exchange, Irulan ground her teeth so hard, it literally hurt. Even Legolas was less irritating compared to this creature! So she chose to lock eyes with her enemy once more. "How much more blood will you shed over this?" 

"I will shed every single soldier's blood to the last drop," was his slow reply. 

Irulan pursed her lips and they both remained silent for a moment. "It will be in vain," was her flat and final statement. 

He sighed and clasped his hands behind his back, looking away. "I am patient, Irulan," he said, his eyes locked to the distant horizon. "I have the sources to remain for an incredibly long time." She clenched her jaw with the effort to remain blank to that. His crystal eyes found hers once more before he continued. "Eventually you will weaken. You will grow tired. And careless. Your caution will slip and haze will set on your watch. One day your strength will fail you and your defense will soften." Irulan focused entirely on not swallowing in fear while he gave her a moment of consideration. "Then I will be here to see it. That day, my flag will rustle on your tower." 

Irulan had been holding her breath out of sheer fury and felt a certain euphoria setting in because of that. She took a deep breath and bit her cheeks. He seemed very unaffected by her threatening stance and shifted slightly on his feet, crossing his arms leisurely. "Of course, you can spare us both the torture and let me in now." 

"Never!" she hissed. 

"That is an awfully long time," he said a moment later, slight mocking in his tone as his eyes weighed heavy on her. 

"Exactly!" she spat in return. "We shall battle till the end, Greenleaf!" she said, stepping away to return to her fortress. 

He bowed slightly, never taking his eyes off her. "As my Lady commands," was the amused and final statement that rang in the silent field.

****


End file.
